


Kite Country

by horatiofrog



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Michigan, Storytelling, local legend, subculture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 42,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatiofrog/pseuds/horatiofrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When four girls go missing in a small Michigan town, the BAU have no idea the lengths a local legend will go to keep them, nor the strength of will it will take to find them again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been out of this fandom for a while, but this is an older work (from 2008) I wanted to post here. All information in this work is accurate up to that date.

"What do you mean, he's missing?!" 

"I mean _we can't find him_ ," said Morgan, putting emphasis on the last part of his sentence. "His calls go straight to voicemail, we've checked his room, the station, even the route he was taking to go and talk to the Parker girl's parents. There's _nothing._ "

Hotch closed his eyes, hoping what his colleague was telling him wasn't true. _We can't afford to have another person go missing...not now…_

"Any sign of Reid?"

"Nothing, Emily. It's like he fell off the face of the earth."

"Just like those girls…"

All three stood stock still as what Emily said registered.

"It _is_ just like the girls," seconded Hotch, racing toward the board.

* * *

On the board were the smiling faces of four girls, all between the ages of twelve and fourteen. Each one had mysteriously gone missing without a clue as to where they'd gone or why—like Morgan said, it was as if they'd 'fallen off the face of the earth.'"

Hotch looked at his other two colleagues, Dave Rossi and JJ Jareau. "What do we know about these girls?" he asked.

"They're all about the same type; small, dark-haired, capable and smart but not a standout," the older man replied. "Why?"

"Where's Reid? Hasn't he come back yet?" asked JJ, noticing they were one agent short.

"We can't find him," said Morgan.

"Can't find him?" Rossi parroted, a little confused. "This isn't exactly a huge town—he has to be _somewhere…_

Everyone in the room turned their gaze towards the board, at the smiling faces that lay also in the land of mist and shroud. No one liked the thought that each knew was running through everyone's mind.

* * *

Reid woke to the sound of tires hitting seams in the concrete. He wanted to lift his head from the floor of whatever it was he was lying in, but the fog that filled his head was so thick and overwhelming that it physically _hurt_ to move it more than a centimeter off the flat surface. 

He let out a soft groan, trying to somehow orient himself to his unfamiliar surroundings.

Suddenly he received a sharp kick to his legs. "Well, now, look who's up," came a voice in front of him.

"Shouldn't be up yet," replied another voice, harsher than the first. "Directions and all…"

"True enough," said the first voice.

Reid held his breath a moment as he heard shuffles and steps coming closer to the spot where he lay. He tried to make out the face of the shadowy form, but his eyes just wouldn't focus. "Wh-what are you…" he began, in a voice softer than breathing.

He never got to finish his thought. "Back to sleep," the first voice chuckled.

Reid struggled a little, fighting both whatever had already been put into his system along with a vile-smelling cloth that certainly held more of the same, but it was in vain. Within seconds, his world turned black once more.

* * *

Night fell, and there was still no sign of Reid. It was the team feared—their young colleague simply vanished into the depths of the Northern Michigan woods.

"This is crazy," said Emily. "They ask us to come in to find these girls and we can't even keep track of ourselves?"

"Well, we weren't exactly _asked_ ," said JJ, her voice trailing on that last few words.

"What?"

Hotch's _tell-me-everything-_ _ **now**_ look prompted the young liason to speed up her explanation. "We were asked, but by everyone _except_ the local sheriff. He kind of got overridden as more girls went missing."

 _Great,_ Hotch thought. _On top of everything else, we have to deal with a sheriff who wants nothing to do with us. No wonder he was such a pain-in-the…_

"What was the sheriff's explanation for all of this?" Morgan asked.

"He blamed it on something called 'Kite Country'," was JJ's only reply. "Sounds like a local legend or something…he claims that no one leaves 'Kite Country' ….alive, anyway."

"They don't," came a gruff voice from behind them.

Six pairs of eyes turned to see the old sheriff standing behind them.

"Look, it's not that I think you folks aren't good at what you do," the man began, "but I don't think it'll help. Might explain a few things, but it won't bring those girls back…nor your friend, if what you say is true."

"And why is that?" asked Rossi, a note of challenge in his voice. "Call me curious…"

The sheriff, who had introduced himself as Tom, gave Rossi the once-over. Deciding that the man seemed at least a little genuinely interested in what he had to say, he began.

"You ever hear of a case in this area, some fifteen or sixteen years ago? Involved a family named Campbell…"


	2. Chapter 2

The world swam. Brown mixed in with black and spots of orange as Reid tried desperately to open his eyes.

It was cold out, and dark—night had fallen, and there were sounds of a crackling fire somewhere nearby. He could feel the dirt covering his arms and feet, and he tried to reach out for his shoes, but it was useless. The young agent's hands were bound behind his back, not tightly but enough to keep them in that state. He moved his feet, which were unbound, around a little in hopes of touching upon his shoes.

They were nowhere to be found.

Instinctively, Reid curled his toes into a ball, not wanting to injure his bare feet. Whoever had abducted him had not only taken his shoes but his socks as well.

He lay on the dirt floor, hoping to work the thick fog from his system. His eyes were slowly beginning to focus, and his hearing began to grow sharper as the minutes ticked by.

There were voices outside the wood walls that seemed to make up the small structure he'd been tossed in, harsh and fast and furious ones.

"What the hell were you thinking?" came one voice, the cold one Reid remembered from before.

"I was _thinking_ that maybe we don't want this to end up like it did last time," replied the other voice, the one who'd managed to knock Reid into this state. "Everyone knows the story…"

"Yeah. _A story_. This isn't like then, genius—everyone knows enough now to stay away. Doesn't the fact that they brought in outsiders tell you something?"

"Still, those outsiders don't know better," argued the younger voice. "This way we keep 'em out—maybe for good."

"Just what are you gettin' at, boy?"

"Well, we all know what happens when people are determined…"

"Yeah. The Campbell girl," said the older, harsher voice."

"The Campbell girl," the younger affirmed. "Now there's no way those outsiders will come in—they'll hear the story, and they'll know what'll happen if they do."

"The Elder isn't gonna like this one, that's for sure."

"He knows what happened before…"

The voices grew fainter as their owners moved out of earshot.

Reid willed himself to pick up his head, but to no avail—it was still too thick and tired from all the drugs that were working themselves out of his system.

 _This happened before…_ he thought. _Happened when? To who?_

_And who is this "Campbell girl?"_

* * *

"There was a family that lived here, once, 'bout that long ago," Tom began. "Name was Campbell. I knew them; they were once my neighbors. Young couple, Sean and Sarah—they'd just had their little girl not less than a month before she went missing.

"That man was heartbroken. People tried telling him all sorts of reasons why she'd left—depression from having the baby, change of scenery, you name it, but he _knew_ that something was wrong, just like you all know your friend is in real trouble."

"What happened?" asked Rossi, now completely interested.

"Well, they never did find her, poor thing. Sean was heartbroken. He raised the little girl, best he could, but he never stopped trying to find out what happened to his wife. He simply knew Sarah didn't just leave him, not willingly, anyway.

"A few months later, another woman went missing—a younger woman, but she looked an awful lot like Sarah Campbell. They never found her, either.

"And that was how it went. Every few months another woman would go missing; sometimes, a little girl vanished as well. It was like they simply walked off the face of the earth."

"What happened to all those women?" Emily asked, now interested herself.

"No one really knows, but they say up near Kite Country you can hear the screams of some of those women."

"'Kite Country?'" asked Morgan.

"About 40,000 acres all belonging to one family---the Kites. Mean, ornery, backwoods lot, the Kites. Put a person in mind of clans and survivalists, those folks."

"What about the Campbell girl?" prodded Hotch.

"Well, Sean Campbell realized that every time the Kite boys came down to the bar, a girl went missing a few days later. Followed the pattern for months, he did, and eventually he challenged them in front of everyone in the bar. Said he knew what was going on, and he meant to put a stop to it."

"So what happened?" JJ asked.

"That night, there was a fire just outside his house. Everyone was so busy trying to put it out that no one noticed Sean's daughter, Kate, had gone missing—just like her mother some twelve years earlier."

"Jesus," said Emily. "And he probably went after the Kites."

"By himself, no less. He managed to get his daughter back, but at a terrible price."

Six agents waited with baited breath to learn what happened next. If there was truth in this story, there might be hope for Reid and the other girls."

"And that it, folks. I only know that the only person to come out of there alive and tell the tale was Katie Campbell. She was a mess, too—burned, beaten, shoeless, and starving, but she made her way out. Local authorities swarmed the place, arrested the Kites on site for a whole number of things; they won't be getting out of prison, that's sure, but no one ever knew what happened to Sean Campbell. Katie, she wouldn't talk about it. Not to me, not to anyone."

Each agent fell into a contemplative silence. They knew that whatever fate befell Sean Campbell, it couldn't be good.

"My advice to these folks was to go after the Kites, and head on, but everyone knows the story. There's not a soul in all of Michigan that will go on that land. Too afraid of what might happen to them."

"So you called us." said Hotch.

"No, the town called you, Agent Hotchner. _I_ called the only person that can go in to get these girls—and now, your friend."

"Who did you…" started Emily, but her sentence was cut off by the sound of a door slamming and an instant hush that fell over the entire building.

"How many this time, Tom?" said a voice. It belonged to a girl that couldn't be much older than Reid.


	3. Chapter 3

"Five this time, Katie. These new ones, they're bold, I'll give them that," said Tom, a warm look glossing over his face. The agents realized that the man held a sort of fondness for the girl; it was much like they had for their missing colleague.

 

"Who're they?" the girl asked, waving a hand towards the agents.

"They're FBI," Tom replied. "Behavioral analysis."

The girl gave a half sympathizing, half puzzled look.

"Never mind. Kate Campbell," she said, tipping her head by way of introduction. The agents each made their own.

"Five, you said?"

"Yeah—four girls and a friend of ours," supplied Morgan.

"How old?"

"The girls are between twelve and fourteen; our friend is about your age," said Rossi. "I don't know why we're telling you this…"

"I have that look, or so they tell me," the girl said, brusque but not unkindly. "They're starting younger, these ones."

"That's the second time you've mentioned 'these ones,'" said Emily. "What, they're not the same people as before?"

The girl looked at Tom. Tom looked at the girl. Both of them had _what-are-you-stupid?_ looks on their faces.

"He told you the story, right?" Kate said.

"Yes."

"Then these aren't the same people. Those ones, in the story? They're all in jail. Trust me, I know."

"Wait--these are copycats?" asked Morgan. "The ones we're dealing with now?"

"No. Just younger relatives, be my guess."

The young woman looked out of the nearby window. "Dark now—not getting anywhere fast in that."

Rossi eyed her carefully. Hotch did as well. "What are you saying?"

Kate's eyes flicked over each agent, giving them the once-over. "You three," she said finally, motioning towards Hotch, Morgan and Emily, "get your affairs in order and find some warm clothes. We leave first thing in the morning."

Hotch was getting a little irked. Who _was_ this woman?

"Just where are we going?" asked Morgan before his superior could get the words out.

Kate turned. "You want to find those girls, don't you?" she asked. "And your friend?"

"Yes," all six agents chimed at once.

"Then the only way you're going to get them is to come with me."

"Why's that?" Emily called after the retreating figure.

"Only one person has ever made it out of Kite Country alive, miss," said Tom. "And that someone is _her_."

* * *

The dark cast its gaze far and wide over the small space Reid occupied. The drugs were moving out of his system, and his head was pounding. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been lying on the dirt floor, but based on he sound of the fire crackling outside and the lack of any other voices nearby, he assumed that his captors had turned themselves in for the night.

 

The young man slowly lifted his head from its perch on the floor and began to pick himself up. It wasn't an easy task, considering his hands were still bound behind his back, but he managed to lift himself to a sitting position.

It was a small structure, and though crudely made, it seemed quite solid. The walls were made of strong wooden timbers, which meant that they wouldn't be broken easily. What little light Reid saw came through the tiny cracks between each set of timbers.

Using his hands as a springboard, Reid managed to pull his legs underneath him and stand upright. He paced the length and width of the structure—it was ten steps long and eight steps wide, just enough for him to lie down and have about a foot of space left over.

He walked over to the part of the wall that looked like a door; like its counterparts, the barrier was solidly built and strong. Reid couldn't make out the type of locking mechanism used to hold it fast, but whatever it was, it was not going to be broken easily.

The fire outside was dying; Reid heard the remnants of embers crackle and sputter in their ashy bed. It was cold, and a chill ran up the young man's spine.

 _What am I doing here?_ he thought. _And what "story" were those men talking about?_

Just then, Reid heard a small cry. It was faint, but close. Peering out one of the tiny cracks in the wall, he spied another structure nearby; it was built similarly to the one the young agent was being held in, but it was about four times the size. There was a light in that building; it flickered through similar cracks in its walls.

Creeping closer to the wall near the building nearby, Reid strained to hear more. He thought he could make out voices; they were soft and full of fear and dread.

Someone was speaking in that space; there were words, but they were too faint for Reid to make out clearly. The voice sounded like it was trying to soothe someone—likely the owner of the voice that had given the cry.

 _The girls,_ the young agent realized. _The missing girls are here!_

 _But why?_ he thought. _What do they want with them? Or with me?_

Reid pressed his ears closer; one of the soft voices was singing, possibly a lullaby in an attempt to get the others to sleep. It sounded like an older voice—definitely not one that belonged to a twelve- or fourteen-year old.

_Was there another woman we missed? Or has she always been here?_

Just then the door to Reid's prison opened with a deafening _bang._ Startled, the young agent jumped about five feet into the air and was panting in shock as he laid eyes on his visitor.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a young girl, small and dark haired and radiating fear. She raced inside the tiny structure, shut the door, and began threading something around the timbers that made up the door and frame. Once she finished, she raced over towards the farthest corner of the space from the door and curled herself into a ball.

 

"What—" Reid began in a whisper, startling the girl. With wide eyes, she took in the fact that she was not alone in this room. She silenced him with a frantic wave of her hands—the kind that said _Stay quiet—not a sound!_

The young agent tried to voice his query again, but then heard what it was the girl was hiding from. There were footsteps, a few at first, that began pacing outside the door. "Where are you, girl?" a voice called out ferociously.

The girl curled tighter into the corner, trying not to make a sound. Reid could tell, even in the extremely dim light, that she had tears running down her face.

The sounds outside grew louder—more footsteps, more calls, more shouts and groans as people were woken up and pressed into a search. Even Reid held his own breath, hoping not to draw attention to his prison and what it held inside.

"Split up and fan out," came the harsh voice that had originally called out. "She's run again; like as not she's in the woods."

"Hard one to handle, eh?" said a younger voice, half-bemused and half-annoyed.

"Beginning to think she's more trouble than she's worth," the harsh voice replied. "Might have to give up on her and get another…"

The voices trailed as the party headed out of earshot. The girl remained curled in her protective ball for a few more minutes before daring even to lift her head.

"They're gone," whispered Reid.

His words startled the girl, who stood up quickly, a determined look on her face. "Who are you?" she asked. "Are you one of them?"

"No, I'm not," the young agent reassured her. "My name is Spencer Reid; I was brought here by those men out there. Who are you?"

The girl hesitated; Reid could tell she was trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth. "You don't sound like you're from here," she said in a hushed voice.

Taking a deep breath, Reid answered her. "No, I'm from Virginia. I was brought in to help find you, and the other girls. I'm with the FBI."

At these words, the girl's face began to brighten, if only a little. "Someone's looking for us?"

"Yes. Why, what did they tell you?" The young man tipped his head towards the door, indicating the voices they'd heard earlier.

"Said no one was coming for us. That people remembered the stories; they wouldn't dare. That _this_ …this was home now, and that we'd better get used to it."

"You haven't."

"I…" she trailed, trying not to cry. It didn't work. "I want to go home," she said finally, soft sobs wracking her voice.

Reid wished his hands weren't bound; he wanted nothing more than to convince the girl that they would be rescued, but from the sounds of things that possibility was long-reaching at best. He had every confidence in his team, there was no doubt about that; he just wondered if they would be able to navigate their way to…well, wherever it was that he and the girls were being held.

The girl took a few cautious steps towards the young man, who was still seated on the dirt floor. Taking his wrists into her small hands, she deftly untied the cords that restrained them. Reid rubbed them, trying to work the circulation back into his sore joints.

"Thanks," he said gratefully. "Who…who are you?"

"My name's Carrie," the girl replied, warmer now but still guarded. "Maybe this time they'll fall into one of their own traps and leave a clear path through those woods."

"Carrie, what's out there?"

"Woods. Miles and miles and miles of woods. I've tried running away, but they always catch me."

"There's traps in the woods?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "Just things to stop anyone from going too far—those covered-hole traps, nets, spiked wire—anything to slow someone down who's trying to escape this place."

Reid looked at his bare feet. He noticed Carrie's were bare too. _So that's why they took my shoes and socks,_ he reasoned. _Can't run far without them in the woods, especially if there's things lying in wait to hurt a bare foot…_

"You're FBI, you said?"

"Yes."

"Then, when are they coming for us?"

"I-I'm not sure," Reid told the girl honestly. "Hopefully soon, though."

"I don't want to go back out there," Carrie said fearfully, motioning towards the door. The fact it had been opened had been overlooked by his captors; the young agent hoped, for her sake, that it would go undetected for a little while longer.

"Carrie, can you tell me what these people have been doing to you?" Reid asked gently. "Or to the other girls?"

Carrie sat down in the corner, the one farthest away from the door's line-of-sight, and Reid slowly walked over and sat down next to her. He didn't want to invade her space—he got the clear impression that that had happened more than enough since she'd been brought to his miserable place—but he wanted to try and keep the scared girl as calm as possible.

"They—" she began, hitching a little on the words. "They brought me here. Just took me off the street; no one was there to see anything. They put something over my mouth—it smelled awful, and finally I passed out, I guess."

Reid nodded, remembering his own experience.

"When I woke up, I was in this room—like this one, but bigger. Some of those men showed up, told me that I had to 'behave' and do as I was told, or things would get worse."

"Did he say what 'worse' was?"

"I found out. I was scared; I wanted to go home. I tried just running down the path they take the truck through, but they caught me. They tied me up and started hitting me, hard, like they wanted to kill me."

Reid started trying to casually look over the girl's form for any broken bones or severe injuries.

"It's okay," she said. "Nothing was broken, but I hurt all over for a long while. How long have I been here, Spencer?"

Reid tried to mentally pull up Carrie's file. She had been the first one taken, and that was nearly five weeks ago. "A little over a month," he said gently.

Carrie's face fell. "A _month_? Why hasn't anyone come looking for me? For _us_?"

"I—I can't really say. My team and I became involved only two days ago; there was a lot of talk about some story about this place…"

"Oh," Carrie said, her face falling. "That story."

"Could…could you tell me this story? Maybe it will help us figure out a way to get out of here…" Reid hoped he could get even this little bit of information out of the girl; he was tired of learning about everything secondhand or in stolen bits.

Carrie took in a deep breath. "They're always talking about it, whatever happened before…"

Suddenly the door to the tiny structure was wrested open and violently thrown aside. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" screamed a large figure—it was the owner of the harsh voice Reid had heard earlier.

Carrie screamed, curling into the corner and trying to wedge herself between the solid wall and Reid's thin frame.

"Move, boy," the man demanded, quickly descending on the cowering figure and pulling her to her feet by her torn collar.

"What are you doing?" Reid asked, holding onto Carrie's arms. He would be damned if he let these people hurt the poor girl and not do something to stop them.

"None of your concern," the man snapped, pulling on the girl harder.

"Please, don't let go!" Carrie cried. "Don't let them…"

A swift backhand to her head caused her to cry out again, and then Reid noticed that his tiny prison was being swarmed by others—all men, in all various sizes—trying to separate the young agent from the pleading young girl.

A few sharp punches to his stomach had Reid falling in a heap on the dirt floor, coughing and trying to shield himself from further abuse. Carrie screamed, crying and calling out Reid's name as she was handed off to one of the other men in the room and dragged away.

As soon as the space cleared and a few of the men left, Reid noticed there were still three people in his cell—the man with the harsh voice, the young man he remembered from the night before, and his older counterpart.

Before the young agent could even form a sentence, he felt his hands being wrested behind his back again and rebound with what he thought was a leather strap. Once his hands were secure, he was tossed onto the ground like a piece of scrap.

"Pay attention, boy," said the harsh voice. "You'll do as you're told, or things will get worse for you. Do you understand?"

Startled, Reid didn't reply. He only stared at these people who seemed, in his mind, to have no concern for the well-being of their captives.

"The Elder asked you a question," the older counterpart said, kicking Reid in the side. "He asks, you answer."

"I…I understand," Reid said hoarsely, trying to catch his breath.

The Elder fixed his gaze on the young agent, as though trying to make a decision. "Leave us," he told his lackeys, and each of them turned on their heels and obeyed.

Reid briefly entertained the hope of trying to get past this man and perhaps out the door, but the man they called The Elder was nearly twice the young agent's size. Instead, he trained his questioning gaze on the man. "What do you want with me?" he asked, not caring how his boldness was taken. He was mentally berating himself for letting them take Carrie out of his cell.

"Leverage," The Elder said simply. "No one gets into or leaves Kite Country without my permission; the same goes for you and your outsider friends."

 _Outsiders?_ Reid thought.

"If you had any hope of being rescued, best to put that to rest, boy. Even the National Guard won't come in here."

Reid's face blanched at this. Coupled with what little Carrie had been able to tell him, this did not sound like good news for him, or the girls.

"In time you'll learn," The Elder said simply. "There's rules here, and you'll follow them. The first is to follow what I say here—I run this place, and you'll abide by that."

"Second, if you try to run, you'll only make things worse for yourself. There's no way out of here, other than us taking you out of here."

Reid nodded in understanding, but still kept running ways of getting some form of help or chance of escape through his mind.

"And until I say otherwise, you don't have any contact with those girls. They're none of your concern. Remember that."

 _How can they be not my concern?_ Reid thought. _They're the reason I'm here in the first place!_

"You sit here and think on that a while," The Elder said, turning on his heel and walking out the door. "Someone will be by with dinner in a few hours."

Reid heard the locking mechanism on the door fall into place. Bruised, battered, and bound once more, the young agent lay still on the dirt floor and began to run the little bit of information he's been able to gather through his mind.

 _There has to be a way to escape this place,_ he thought. _If I can just figure it out, or even get a look at what I'm up against...maybe then we might have a chance._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a typo in an earlier chapter--the Kites control 4,000 acres of land, not 40,000. Sorry for the confusion.

The sun had yet to rise as the team assembled the next morning. Hotch, Morgan and Emily had had to out for clothes suitable for an extended hike through deep woods, and they stuck to basic tree colors—blacks, deep greens, tans, browns and grays. Katie Campbell has told them she would bring whatever else was needed.

Rossi and JJ had gone to each of the girls's parents and asked them for their shoe sizes, and had then gone out and bought hiking boots in each size. It seemed like an odd thing to ask for, but Katie had told them they'd understand later. Realizing there had to be some method to the Campbell woman's madness, JJ made sure that they also bought a pair in Reid's size.

"Got the shoes?" Katie asked. She had set a pack down for each person going on the trip—they were being brought out by a young man she had introduced as Sam.

JJ produced five pairs of hiking boots, and Katie placed one pair in each pack. "There's an extra; who wants it?" she asked.

"I'll take it," said Morgan. The pair was Reid's.

When everything was set in order, the three agents loaded onto the back of a pickup. Katie hopped into the cab and Sam took the wheel.

It was a cool morning, not uncommon for Michigan in early autumn. The leaves were beginning to turn colors, and as the truck drove down the deserted two-lane highway each agent wondered just what it was they were heading into.

"How does she remember the way through all of this?" Emily asked, half to herself. "The last time this happened, it was fifteen years ago—that'd make her, what…fourteen when she escaped?"

"Twelve," said Hotch. "I read the file last night."

Emily's eyes grew wide. "4,000 acres and she made it out at _twelve_? Wow."

"You want something bad enough, you'll do whatever it takes," quipped Morgan, staring into the dense wall of trees. "I'd say whatever happened in there scared her enough to keep going until she got out, or she died."

"It was pretty bad. The sheriff's right—Katie Campbell never talked about what happened to her father; she only said he was dead. No one could get any more out of her. She moved out of state after that; went to live with a friend of the family."

"Wait a minute," Morgan said, holding his hands up in disbelief. "You mean this is the first time she's done this since she was twelve? Hotch, who _knows_ what changes these 'new people' they keep talking about are in there, waiting?"

"You would leave those girls in there? And Reid?"

"Of course not. It's not going to help them much if we end up dead before we get to them, though."

"Something tells me getting in might be tricky, but it's the getting _out_ part that has me worried," Hotch replied. "Four people used to these sorts of things are easy enough to slip into a situation like this; taking out twice the number, and half of them young and scared---that's going to be the real trick."

"I wonder what she made us bring the shoes for?" Emily thought aloud.

Finally the truck pulled over towards the side of the road. There was a little bit of a path opening at this point, and it was here that Katie directed the three agents.

"Before we go in, I'm going to warn you," she said, her voice not holding any sort of condescension or arrogance. "This is no 'walk in the park.' The trip in is going to take at least two days, if not three, and it'll likely be longer on the way back. We're going in nearly blind; the Kites will know damn near every inch of this place. If you want to opt out, now is the time."

"I'm going," said Morgan. Hotch and Emily nodded their assent.

"Okay. Stick together, and whatever you do, _do not_ lose sight of each other. We get lost, and it's over. All right?"

The three nodded, and they set forth into the deep, black wilderness.

* * *

As promised, food had been brought to Reid's prison; however, it was breakfast instead of dinner.

Reid noticed that the young man from the previous night—the one who'd given him the savage kick in the side—was the one bringing it. The thought that something had been done to whatever he was being fed briefly crossed the young agent's mind.

"Well, I was gonna say 'rise and shine,' but you're already up," the man said, placing the plate on the ground and reaching behind Reid to loosen the leather strap that bound him. "Hurry up and eat—there's plenty of other things I need to be doing."

 _You don't have to stay and watch me eat on_ my _account,_ Reid thought. He cautiously moved his hands toward the food; he hadn't eaten since the afternoon before he'd been snatched off the street, and his stomach was about to leap out of his throat in an attempt to find sustenance.

"Come on, come on," the younger man said impatiently.

"You _could_ leave the plate," Reid ventured, his voice fighting to stay calm instead of annoyed.

"What---so you can break it and use it later on us? I don't think so. One of those girls already tried that trick---you'll just have to hurry up."

The young agent hastily swallowed what was given to him; he was beginning to feel like an unwanted chore that had to be dealt with.

"If I'm such a chore, then why did you bring me here in the first place?"

The statement earned Reid a backhand across the face.

"Never question what happens here, boy," the young man spat.

"Spencer," Reid replied. "I have a name. It's Spencer."

"Do I look like I care much?"

The young agent shook his head. When he finished eating, his guard took the plate from him and hurried out, leaving Reid unbound. He cautiously crept towards the door of his prison, finding that it too had been left unsecured.

Reid cracked the door a fraction of an inch. He saw dozens of wooden structures set up like some sort of 'village' inside a large clearing—how large, though, he could not immediately tell. The small building he occupied was the last one before coming face-to-face with a steep hillside; much too steep to climb without a rope of some sort.

Next to him was the larger building Carrie talked about—the one she'd likely been kept in, and the other girls as well.

He stole a look around the front of the small wooden door—there was a clearing in the middle of the encampment, with a metal pole some nine feet high firmly staked in the center. Reid's heart sank as he saw the small figure he'd met the night before propped up next to it, her hands behind her.

_They tied her to that pole and left her there all night?_

The distance was too far to call out to her unnoticed; Reid could barely make out her facial features from the distance.

Taking a deep breath to draw up his courage, he gently pushed the door open, praying it didn't make a sound. Once he managed to get the door open, he crept softly towards the metal pole, hoping not to alarm anyone.

The sun was just starting to come up, and as the light made its way over the treetops Reid managed to reach his destination. Working swiftly, he managed to free the young girl's hands from around the metal stake.

"No, no…I don't wanna go…" Carrie mumbled, half-asleep. "Don't make me…"

The young agent put his hand on her shoulder, trying to both wake her and keep her quiet. "Carrie? It's Spencer. We have to get up off the ground now, both of us. Can you do that?"

Realizing who it was that was speaking to her, Carrie nodded. She was still fighting the sleep that threatened to take her. Slowly, she pulled her legs underneath herself and stood up.

"Okay. Come on," Reid said gently. "Do…do you know where everyone is?"

"They all went into the woods," Carrie said, her voice also hushed. "There's no one here except a couple of guards."

Reid motioned for Carrie to stay absolutely silent. He strained to hear any sound that might alert him to someone coming back to check on things; to his relief, there was none.

"Carrie, I need you to tell me where they're keeping you and the other girls," Reid said, firmly but not unkindly. He knew he had to see to the welfare of all the girls—though there may not be anything he could do for them at the moment, he needed to assess the situation they were all in.

Stealing a cautious look of her own, Carrie quickly pulled Reid toward the building next to where Reid was being kept. Using her deft fingers to unbind the latch, she pulled him inside.

There, in front of the young agent, were the three other missing girls. Each one looked tired and afraid; one of them edged into the corner of the building, looking like Reid might hurt her.

"It's okay," Carrie said. "He's not one of them—he's here to help."

"Help?" asked the girl in the corner. "Help _how_?"

"Maria…"

"No, seriously, how can he help? There's too many of them, and even if we do manage to sneak out, there's the woods." The girl, whom Reid assumed was Maria, sank to the ground. "We're never getting out of here," she cried. "They're gonna…"

There was a soft coughing sound that eminated from a nearby pallet of rags. Another girl was lying on top of it; her face flush with what might be a fever.

The fourth girl dipped something in a bowl of water and began applying it over the sick girl's forehead. "It's not getting better," said the girl, who looked about Carrie's age. "The water isn't helping…"

"Beth?" The flushed girl stirred. "Who…who's that?"

Reid walked over to the girl's side, trying to assess what might be the matter with her. "How long have you felt like this?" he asked.

"Three days," Beth said. "They took her somewhere, and when she came back she started coughing. I tried to get her medicine, but they wouldn't give me anything—not anything I knew, anyway."

"You know about medicine?"

"My mom's a doctor," Beth explained. "I picked up a few things from her."

"Can you help her?" Carrie asked.

"Are you a doctor?"

Reid froze. He knew millions of random bits of information, but he'd never been formally trained in medicine. Everything he knew was either from a book or in theory—not the kind of thing he would use on a live patient.

"No, not that kind of doctor," he said, almost apologetically. "I might know a few things, though. What have you been doing for her so far?"

"I asked them for a blanket for Elisha to lie on, so she wouldn't get cold," Beth began. "Then I asked for medicine, and they gave her a shot of something in a glass and the water. Every day they change the water and give her whatever was in the shotglass."

"'s terrible," the sick girl—Elisha—mumbled.

"What color was it? The liquid?"

"Brownish. Why?"

"It's whiskey," Reid answered. "They're giving her whiskey to cure her."

"But it's not working."

Reid's eyes scanned the room. Aside from the metal bowl of water and the pallet Elisha lay on, it was bare.

Just then there were shouts and the sound of banging doors and ammunition being loaded into steel chambers.

Each person in that room knew what that meant. Their captors had returned from the woods, and they had discovered something amiss.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Check on them," the harsh voice called out. There were more doors being tossed aside, more sounds of footsteps, more calls for searchers.

Involuntarily, Reid and the girls held their breath, hoping to stay quiet.

The wide door swung into the wall of the building, and three men stormed inside. "Get away from them," one of them growled as he wrenched Reid up by the collar. "Got no business being in here."

The young agent struggled, trying to get free from the man's iron grip. "Please," he cried out. "She's sick; let me help her!"

Another voice called out, "And just what do you think you can do for her, boy? You a doctor or somethin'?"

Reid dug his heels into the hard earth, desperate not to be pulled away. "No," he admitted. "But I do know a little something about medicine…"

The sentence was cut off by the arrival of the Elder. He strode over towards Reid and the three girls that were huddled near Elisha's pallet.

"What did I tell you about these girls?" he said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the crowd.

"Please," he pleaded, "look at her. If you don't give her medicine, the fever will keep rising, and she'll die. Do you _want_ her to die?"

"That liquid…the one you give her, it's not helping," Beth chimed softly. "She's burning up; the water isn't working…"

Oblivious now to the crowd around her, Elisha whimpered quietly. Her face was a red as a beet, and drops of sweat trickled down her face.

The Elder stood there, taking in everything for a long few moments. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft moans that escaped Elisha's lips.

Finally, he turned towards two large men standing just outside. "Take her over to the pond; we'll duck her in. Just to make sure she cools off, understand?"

"What!" Reid cried. "Are you crazy?"

"You said it yourselves—her temperature needs to drop. Best way I know to do that is to put her on ice; or as close to ice as we have."

 _Oh, my God,_ the young genius thought. _They'll kill her…_

"Stand aside," said the Elder, and Reid fought against the men who held him back. A few blows to the sides and back were enough to send him crashing to the ground in pain.

"Please, don't," he pleaded. "Don't do this…you'll kill her…"

"None of your concern, boy," the Elder said flatly. He turned to the man holding Reid and said, "Take him into the barn, and wait for me there."

Reid's eyes widened. _The barn? What's going to happen to me there?_

* * *

The rescue party had been traveling north for about three hours. Katie Campbell hadn't been off the mark when she said it wouldn't be a "walk in the park"---within an hour the group ran into some dense brush and tough-as-nails grapevine that blocked their route.

"There should be a machete in one of those packs," Katie said, stepping into the thick growth. She had pulled out a four-and-a-half inch Benchmade and began cutting through the knot of vines.

Morgan took the machete in his hands and began taking short strokes at the smaller branches that were entwined together.

"Why not just go around?" Emily had asked.

"Because 'going around' would just take you along the perimeter of Kite Country," Katie explained. "Those trails are new; see how they're clear of growth and whatnot?"

"Yeah…like someone keeps them that way," Emily concurred.

"Yep."

"And this will take us in?" asked Hotch. He took Katie's knife form her and took a turn at the vine.

"See this path we're standing on? What does it tell you?"

"That someone made it before those new ones; long before, be my guess," said Morgan. He stopped swinging the machete for a moment in order to catch his breath.

"Exactly. My guess is no one uses this way in much anymore—they stick to closer routes or take the truck drive in."

"There's a road that goes in here? Why didn't you mention that before?"

"Because it's well guarded. No one gets in or goes out of this place; not without the Elder Kite knowing about it."

The three agents stopped their tasks and stared at Katie. "What?"

Katie took the machete from Morgan and continued working as she talked. "It's a clan system—a hierarchy, so to speak. The oldest child of the oldest child is called the Elder Kite; they're the one who runs the day-to-day in this place. Think of it like a kingdom; he's the guy with the crown, as the case may be."

"Why only girls?" Emily asked aloud. The path had been sufficiently cleared so that they could continue on in single file to the next clearing.

"Biology, ma'am. Plain and simple."

"You mean…" Emily couldn't even finish the thought.

"Yep. That's why they're never allowed to leave---the Kites have the luck of only having boys; never girls. And they are smart enough to know about inbreeding, so…"

"Oh my God."

"Now you see why I wasn't too keen to stay, myself. There's other reasons, though, but not now—there's miles more to go before we can think about stopping for the night."

Emily trudged along, even at times surpassing their guide, who was moving almost as quickly as she was.

* * *

Reid struggled and fought his guards with every step. He knew that the sudden shock to Elisha's system would do more harm than good, and he tried in vain to follow those who were carrying her toward the green-glass pond.

"If you don't stop fighting us, we'll _carry_ you, you understand?" barked the young man who had fed Reid earlier—he'd learned that his name was Patrick.

The young agent paid him no heed, and continued to rail against the strong hands that pulled him in the opposite direction towards a large barn.

"Fine. Have it your way," said Patrick. "Lift 'em."

Before Reid could take another step, Patrick had taken hold of Reid's arms while his counterpart scooped up his legs and feet. Keeping a firm grip on his wrists and ankles, the two carried the wriggling captive into the tall structure. Once inside, they hauled Reid over to a large pole with several thick straps attached to it at different heights. Forcing the young doctor's arms above him, Patrick managed to bind Reid's wrists together near the top of the pole.

"There," he said. "I missed what else the Elder said, what with the excitement and all—were we supposed to wait for him?"

Facing the pole, Reid's couldn't make out the other man's inaudible answer. It seemed, however, that Patrick had already made up his mind, and the next thing he heard was a soft sound of something running against cloth.

Heaving deep breaths, Reid's eyes widened as he realized what the sound was—it was the sound of a belt being removed.

"No…please, don't," he pleaded softly, trying to stir a bit of compassion in his tormentor.

He was not successful. Patrick laid lash after lash across Reid's back and legs, careful to only hit hard enough to hurt but not to break either skin or bone. "Not of any use to us if we break him," Patrick reasoned aloud to his companion.

For his part, Reid tried to hold in the screams of pain that wanted to escape with each strike of leather across his back. A few forced their way out, but not enough to be heard by anyone but those who were the source of them.

After what seemed like ages, Patrick finally stopped when another sound assaulted the young doctor's ears. It was the sound of a door opening.

"Take him down from there," demanded another voice—it was the voice of the older man that had brought Reid to this place. "Right now—he's wanted at the pond."

"Give me a minute, Mark," Patrick said curtly.

"Now, boy—and you'll be quick about it, else you want the Elder to know what you've been up to. Reckon I heard him say he wanted that boy just brought in here—not flogged for his trouble."

Heaving a loud sigh of annoyance, Patrick strode over and nearly ripped Reid's arms out of their sockets as he released the bonds that held his wrists to the pole. In pain, the young doctor collapsed onto the ground.

"Get up," said Patrick as his companion hauled Reid to his feet. "You're already causing me more trouble than you're worth."

Reid glared at the young man, who couldn't be more than a year or two older than himself. Through clenched teeth, he managed to spit out his own epithet—"I never asked to be brought here."

"Well now," Patrick sneered as he led his charge towards the large pond. "Doesn't life suck for us both."

\----

There was a small crowd gathered near the pond's edge. Once Patrick had produced Reid, the young doctor was shoved towards the edge for a front-row seat to what was about to take place.

A firm hand held Reid where he stood. It belonged to the Elder.

"So, we're crazy, are we?" he asked evenly. It seemed to Reid like a genuine question; one which warranted an answer.

"If she catches cold, she might get pneumonia," he replied. "Which, on top of her fever, could make things a lot worse."

Everyone's head turned as Elisha was carried to the pond's edge. She was squirming a little; her illness was obviously making her weak and tiring her easily.

A faint plea crept out from underneath the blanket she'd been wrapped in—"Please, don't…"

"Stand her up," the Elder called to the men, and they carefully did so.

Forcing Reid in front of him, he pushed the young man toward the shaking girl. Reid privately wondered if whatever Elisha was suffering from hadn't already overtaken her too far.

"Take a hold of her, boy," the Elder said. "You yourself said she needs to have the fever break—you're going to make sure it does."

Reid thought of the lashes his back and legs had suffered; he silently thanked God that Patrick's blows had been as restrained as they had been. He was stiff and sore, but there were no cuts or broken skin for the water to seep into.

He turned and looked out into the small crowd. It was all male, and mostly his age or younger. _There's no way I could pick her up and outrun them, even if we were in perfect health,_ Reid thought.

Seeing no other choice, Reid bent down so that he could be on an eye level with the shivering girl. "Elisha?" he said gently. "I'm sorry, but there's no other choice. I have to take you in there."

Elisha nodded. Reid wondered if she wasn't starting to go delirious.

Taking hold of her small shoulders, the young agent slowly guided her into the cold water. He moved them a little at a time, letting her get used to the water before exposing her to another step inward.

After about ten minutes, both Elisha and Reid were nearly doused in the water. When the water was at Elisha's shoulders, Reid stopped her from automatically taking another step.

He looked out at the crowd again. Their mood—and their will—had not changed.

Heaving a deep sigh, he turned to the girl; her teeth were chattering from the cold water. _She's probably caught cold already_ , Reid thought.

The chill in the water began to seep through Reid's frame as well—he found his own teeth taking on a slight chatter and goosebumps covered the parts of him that had been exposed to water and air.

"Go on," the Elder called. "Duck her."

"Please, hasn't she had enough?" Reid cried.

"Mind me, boy. Duck her, or one of these boys here will. And they won't be gentle about it."

The thought of this poor girl being roughly shoved under the water was something Reid could not abide. "Take a deep breath," he said softly, and he slowly pushed her head under the water.

He counted three, and then pulled her back up. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I-I-I'm c-c-cold," Elisha said. "C-c-can I-I-I g-g-et o-out now?"

"She's going to catch cold!" Reid shouted. "Please, let me take her out!"

The Elder turned towards his people, and said a few words Reid couldn't make out. Before he could register what was happening, six of the men began making their way towards the pair, finally taking each and leading them out of the pond. Both Elisha and Reid had a guard of three, which dashed Reid's hopes of being able to see to the girl after they were removed from the water.

"Follow what I told you with her, and see that she eats," the Elder said, motioning towards the shivering girl. Reid noticed that a thick new blanket had been fetched from somewhere and was being wrapped tightly around Elisha's form.

"Take him back to his box," he said, waving a hand towards the young doctor. "Patrick, Keith—you two stand outside the door. He doesn't go unguarded; is that clear?"

The two men nodded their heads.

"Someone will come later to relieve you. The rest of you, go to dinner—Grace has everything laid out."

 _Grace?_ Reid thought as he was frog-marched back to his prison. _Who's Grace? Is there a girl we missed?_


	7. Chapter 7

Eight hours into the woods, and Emily was beginning to see why Katie had told them it would take at least three days. Aside from the pockets of overgrown vine, brush, and other vegetation that stood as a natural barrier between the party and their destination, the four had had to navigate a series of marshy bogs and something Katie called a "crick," which actually looked like a small creek to Emily.

"I thought you were just emphasizing the point," she said to the girl as they continued north towards their destination. "How on earth did you make it out of all this?"

Katie trudged alongside Emily for a long while, seemingly trying to put the experience into words. Finally she replied, "If I didn't, my life would have been so much worse. And my pop would have died for nothing."

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

Katie bit her lip. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Need to focus. There's five people in there that need us, and in the right frame of things."

" _Are_ you in the right frame of mind?"

Katie said nothing, but continued on her path.

 _God,_ Morgan thought, _I hope so._

_\----_

Night fell. The three agents and Katie each pulled out a tightly wrapped bedroll from the top of their packs and laid them out on the driest and most flat piece of ground they could find. Katie set hers up against a tree, and propped herself up against it.

"I'll stay awake a bit; keep watch," she said when the others questioned her. "Don't like the idea of sleeping much in Kite Country."

Hotch joined her. Morgan and Emily didn't need to be told twice to go to sleep—they were exhausted from the trek so far.

Katie turned to Hotch, giving him the once-over. "You should sleep too," she said, her voice tempered to keep from waking the sleeping agents or from attracting attention.

"So should you," Hotch countered.

"I'll sleep tomorrow."

Hotch decided it was no use to argue. He'd quickly discovered that while Katie wasn't arrogant or bossy, she had a way of being… _right_ about certain things. The profiler let a few minutes of silence pass before pressing on with a nagging question he'd had since the younger agents had spoken with their guide earlier.

"What happened?"

"What happened when?"

"All those years ago."

"What makes you think something happened?"

Hotch figured this would be his response. "You won't talk about it. You didn't then, and you avoid the question now. Your face tenses, your eyes shift; there's a whole host of things that act as a "tell" that something's not right. You came all the way from Boston just to find these girls, and it makes me think you figure something will happen to them."

Katie turned. "How did you…"

"I read your file. It took some time to find, but your friend Tom kept a copy."

"I get the feeling that's not all you read."

Hotch said nothing, but began looking at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

"What was it you people do again?"

"We're profilers."

A slow smile flickered across the young woman's face. It was hard to see, because they hadn't lit a fire—it might attract attention—but Hotch caught glimpses of it from the bright moonlight that shone overhead.

"You're good."

"It's our job to be."

Katie stared out into the open space. She knew staying near a treeline would give them time to hide if someone came near, but also afforded them some shelter in case of a sudden storm or need to move quickly. Michigan weather was unpredictable like that.

"There was a fire," she began slowly.

"We heard about that."

There was a small shuffle near the spot where Katie sat; Hotch decided it was her nodding her head, rustling next to the tree bark.

"There was shouting. People came out to the front of the house—I lost count of the number after ten. I got up, wanting to see what was happening.

"I started to go towards the window, and next thing I knew a hand came over my mouth. This…voice, it told me that if I screamed, there'd be another fire set, inside the house, and I'd go up in it. I was scared. Next thing I knew I was in the woods."

"You don't remember how you got there?"

"No. It's like…a broken recording, you know? One that's been erased in places?"

Hotch nodded. There was a similar shuffle as the collar of his coat rustled against the tree bark.

"I had heard about the Kites—it was an old story, about this family that lived in the woods. Most people thought it was just a spook story, you know; just a way to keep people from going in. My dad always warned me about going into 'Kite Country'—I think he had an inkling, even when I was just a kid."

"Your mother," Hotch said, confirming he'd heard about that.

"Yeah. Pop always said that Mom didn't leave of her own accord. It drove him a bit mad, I think. I suppose it would, having someone you love just disappear. But he was always there for me—I don't regret that for a minute."

"What happened when you woke up?" Hotch pressed.

"I woke up in this…building. I guess _shack_ might be a better word for it, though. In any case, though, I remember the man they called the Elder Kite coming in. I was bound, and I didn't have any shoes. I remember wondering why they took my shoes—it was summer, but still, I'd had them on to go see about the fire, and then they were gone."

"This 'Elder'; is this the same guy as before?"

"No," Katie confirmed vehemently. "That one's doing time in Standish until hell freezes over, and then some. So are most of his sons. Mean, vicious, ornery bastard, was Thomas Kite. He burst into that shack and began beating me—I hadn't done anything, much less been there five minutes, and here is this man about your age plus half just taking out his ire on me. Kept telling me my father would learn to keep his mouth shut, and let the Kites do as they always have, or I'd end up like my mom…"

At this last bit Katie's voice began to hitch. Hotch guessed that she'd been told about what happened to her mom all those years before.

"What happened to your mother?" Hotch pressed gently.

Katie shuddered. This was obviously not a story she wanted to tell.

* * *

Reid lay on the dirt floor of his cell, shivering from the trip into the freezing pond. He worried privately if he himself wouldn't catch his death of cold from the experience. The young agent only hoped that Elisha was being looked after and was being treated for the fever.

 _It's as if they don't know modern medicine—or they don't have a use for it,_ he mused. _If that 'Elder' of theirs is any judge, it doesn't seem like they want to hurt the girls—unless, of course, they try to run away._

He thought about the fragments of 'story' Carrie had tried to tell him the night before. _Barbed wire, pitfalls, snares—just how serious are these people about keeping us here against our will?_

Reid tucked his knees in near his chest, hoping to generate a little warmth. He only had his clothes with him, and they were soaking wet from the experience in the pond. He couldn't pull himself in too closely, though—his back and legs still screamed from the abuse they'd suffered earlier.

Outside, Patrick continued to sit, keeping watch. Reid knew that if no one else were around, he'd certainly catch hell from the man, who seemed to have a bit of a sadistic-narcissistic complex.

 _I never asked to be here,_ Reid thought. _I was kidnapped and dragged here against my will, and that guy seems to think I'm_ _ **invading**_ _somehow._

Snatches of conversation floated through the cracks in the timbers; the young agent strained his ears to make out some of it.

"I dunno what the hell Brian was thinking," Patrick was complaining. "Bringing in one of them outsiders…"

"Probably thought it was a way to keep them out," said his companion, who Reid assumed was Keith. "He knows the story as well as anyone…"

 _Yeah,_ Reid thought. _Everyone except me, obviously._

"Hell, I _lived_ that story," Patrick said. "Cute girl, too—she's not much younger than me; I was supposed to have her, y'know."

"You lie."

"Nope. Thomas the Elder was a hell of a lot better head than William will ever be, says I. He's too soft on these girls."

"Mind your tongue."

"Or what? He's gonna whip me? Hardly."

"Hey, I've seen the Elder pissed," said Keith. "Don't happen much, but when it does…be somewhere else."

"Yeah, I know it," Patrick sighed. "Still, don't know why we need to keep this boy. Ain't doing us any good locked in a box, and he's no girl to 'play' with…"

 _Oh God,_ Reid thought with a start. _I should have guessed—they're going to use the girls as…_ He violently shook his head and forced himself not to throw up.

_Still, though, if that's the case, what do they really want with me?_

"Like as not, little Brian had the right idea," continued Keith. "We keep one of those outsiders, and then there won't be no one that'll come in here. Be too afraid we might hurt him, like as not."

 _Leverage_ , remembered Reid. _The Elder said something about it. I'm here to keep the government and other 'outsiders' out, apparently._

"Still, couldn't he have brought us a woman?" Patrick griped. "A dark-haired one, maybe?"

"Maybe there wasn't one of 'em like that," Keith mused.

"Damn shame," said Patrick. "These little ones aren't no fun---every time they're put in with the younger cousins they start screaming and crying and trying to run. What we need is an older woman…"

"Yeah, but they say that it was the older women that were worse," Keith countered. "Most of 'em kept trying to run away, even more than these little ones. Couple of 'em killed themselves after one of the older men lay with 'em."

"I remember that. There was this one…she wouldn't quit running. Thomas, he finally had her put out—I think her name was Sarah…but then, I only heard about that one. I was a baby then."

 _Put out? What does that mean?_ Reid wondered.

"Ones who stayed, they didn't' become much of nothin' after they had their kids. Just…hollow. Lot of 'em died, they say, during Thomas's run—they'd starve themselves, or just waste away to nothin'. One gal tried to kill the baby too, she claimed she was savin' it…"

"Good thing someone stopped her; otherwise Cam wouldn't be here."

"Still…"

"Hey. There's some who catch on. Look at Grace."

_Grace. Finally, some answers._

"Yeah," Patrick agreed. "Gracie's a good woman; raised a lot of us after our mothers died or ran off into the woods."

"Sometimes I think she's more Kite than we are," Keith chuckled.

Inside the wooden cell, Reid's heart sank. _Either they die in various ways or they become completely brainwashed and acclimated to this life,_ he thought. _I have to get the girls out of here, before one of those fates sets in on them…_


	8. Chapter 8

Suddenly there was a commotion outside of Reid's door.

"Move aside," commanded a familiar voice. It was the Elder Kite.

For once, it seemed Patrick had no quick comment. He merely opened the door and let the head of his household inside.

Lying on the ground, Reid craned his neck in order to see his visitor. _It's late,_ he thought. _What could he possibly want with me now?_

"Sit up," the Elder said, not harshly. "I want a word with you."

It seemed odd to Reid that the head of this strange, backwards clan seemed like the most rational one of the lot. _Perhaps that's a good thing,_ he considered. _Maybe I can convince him to let us go…_

He pushed himself off of the ground and sat with his legs folded underneath him. "What…what do you want to know?" he asked timidly.

The Elder himself sat down, in a fashion similar to Reid's.

"You have a name, boy?"

"Yes. It's Spencer."

"Odd name, isn't it?"

Reid shrugged. _Is there a point to this?_

"Where do you come from, Spencer?"

"Virginia. I'm not from here—but you already know that."

"Don't mouth off, boy."

Chagrined, Reid hastily apologized.

"I know there was a few of you come in for those girls," the Elder said. "Don't give me that look—lot of things, am I, but stupid I'm not."

"Please," Reid began. "They're just little girls. They're scared. Why keep them? They can't be any use to you…"

"They're old enough for what we have in mind."

_Oh God._

"What...what exactly might that be?" Reid ventured.

"You see any girls around here?"

 _Well, I haven't been allowed out much, now have I?_ "Not that I could see," he said aloud.

"Kites have this strange problem—we only seem to bring up boys. Now, I know about breeding; have to, to run a place like this, and when there's no girls, we have to improvise."

"By kidnapping them off the street?" Reid asked, trying to keep his tone controlled. He didn't want to risk another fight with one of these people.

"Boy, let me make it clear," the Elder said, his tone rising. "I don't want anything happening to those girls. Defeats the purpose of bringing them here. But mind me, they will learn how things work, and their place in it."

"And…and what about me?" The young agent could hear the fear creeping into his voice. "What use am I?"

"That's why we're talking. I want to know what sort of people you came with, and if they listen to reason."

_Reason? Is this guy serious?_

"Well?" The Elder looked at Reid impatiently.

 _Focus, Spencer. Don't give everything away._ "We're FBI," he began. "The town called us in when the last girl, Maria, went missing. I-I guess they thought we could get in here, where no one else would go."

The Elder sat, his face not revealing his thoughts.

"No one told them?"

"Told us what?"

"The story. Everyone knows the story, it's why they won't come."

Reid swallowed. "I-I don't know. They might. I never heard it, though."

"There's a reason you don't leave Kite Country," the Elder began. "These girls aren't the first, but then you might have picked that up."

The young agent nodded.

"Suffice it to say, they tried—but the Elder then, he was a mean bastard."

_Really. And you're not? You nearly killed that poor girl!_

The Elder looked hard at Reid. "You try running, and you'll hurt worse than those girls, understand? Them we need—you, you're just leverage. Could kill you easy enough—no one would know the difference…"

_Oh God._

"Please…don't…" Reid stammered, wide eyed.

"I think we can make you useful enough for our purpose, though," the Elder continued. "You any good with a washboard?"

The young agent's brows furrowed. "I-I can learn, I guess…"

"Tomorrow morning then, we'll put you to work. And stay away from those girls!"

Reid swallowed. "What-what if they come towards me?"

"Then you say nothing. They're none of your concern. Am I clear?"

There was a tone to that last bit that frightened Reid. "Yes," he said softly.

"Good. I'll send someone in with some new clothes—they'll work until those ones dry, I guess. Get some sleep."

With that, the Elder rose and strode out of the small structure, making sure that the door was firmly lashed shut behind him. He dismissed Patrick and Keith, sending them to bed for the night.

Reid sprung up off of the bare floor and began pulling at the door handle. It remained fast; though he could try to break it, the sores from the beating he'd received earlier wouldn't let him get enough strength behind it to serve the purpose.

Resigned, the young agent sank back to the floor. _Maybe if I get a better look at what I'm up against, I can figure out a way to escape,_ he thought. _No matter what these people say, I have to get those girls out of here…_

* * *

Katie had settled herself back beneath the tree. To her relief, the inquisitive agent had taken her advice and allowed himself to doze off.

An owl called out, asking the fateful question that had plagued her most of her life— _who? Who?_

_Who was it that took Mom, all those years ago?_

_Who was it that decided bringing me here was a great idea?_

There were other questions that haunted the young woman. She stared out into the depths of the black night taking in the soft sounds of rhythmic breathing from the dozing agents, the sound of the sudden breeze rustling the tall weeds, the scampering sounds of small creatures looking for their midnight feast.

_Where did all those women end up?_

_What did happen to Mom? She didn't just vanish from Kite Country…_

_Why did the Kites have to descend on us? We didn't do anything to deserve this, none of us…_

There was a sudden _snap_ of twigs nearby, and Katie tensed. She pulled her feet underneath her, ready to wake the others and hightail it into the trees if need be.

A tense few seconds passed, and then Katie saw the source of the startling sound—a pair of deer, making their way through the thick brush and weeds. In the moonlight, they were merely walking shadows; but they were cast in brilliant silver instead of the usual black.

Katie stared at the pair for a long while, watching as they took their cautious steps past the sleeping agents and made their way towards the outskirts of the wooded country. For a moment, she thought they might even be a sign—some sort of message from those not with her that they would get through this quest intact.

Settling back against the tree, Katie herself began to doze lightly, keeping one ear always firmly fixed towards the ground.

* * *

"Rise and shine, boy," came an unwelcome voice. "Time to put your pretty hands to work."

Reid's eyes fluttered slightly, trying to open solidly and take in his visitor. It was Patrick, who seemed a little more than happy to have the chore of fetching him.

"Come on, get up," Patrick said, shoving his foot roughly into the young agent's side. "Don't have all day—there's work to be done."

Heaving a deep breath, Reid slowly pushed himself up off of the ground. He felt like he hadn't slept in days; between the "visits" and the hard ground he had to sleep on, he was certain he had only gotten about five hours of sleep in the last two days.

Taking the young agent by the collar, Patrick forced him out of his cell. He frog-marched Reid over to the pond's edge, where a giant pile of cloth and a metal washboard sat. Another young man carried over a large wooden tub; it was full of something soft and grayish.

"This here's Cam," Patrick said, pointing at the young man. "You're to follow what he says, and don't give him trouble." Patrick's voice held a tone in that last bit, almost daring Reid to try something. "He's a hell of a shot."

Swallowing hard, Reid knelt down near the edge of the water. "What…what do I do?" he asked the young man.

"Watch," said Cam, and he took the metal board in his hands. Taking one of the pieces of cloth up into his hand—a shirt, Reid guessed—he applied some of the soft grayish substance to it and then began rubbing the cloth against the board as it sat in the water. White suds began to spring up around the cloth as it moved back and forth against the board.

Once he finished scrubbing, Cam took the cloth and dipped it into the water, rinsing it out and laying it in a metal tub to dry.

"Now you do it," Cam said, stepping back and pushing Reid towards the board and tub.

Picking up another piece of cloth—a pillowcase, it looked like—Reid mimicked Cam's actions. He did this for hours, scrubbing what seemed like hundreds of articles of clothing and linens. His hands became rough and sore from all the scrubbing, and there were times he had to spend as much as twenty minutes working to get a spot out—if he didn't, Reid got the article thrown back at him along with a slap in the head; the slap usually came from Patrick, who was content to simply watch the young agent cleaning his laundry.

_If this is all the linen and clothes, then why haven't they given the girls anything new to wear? Or at least blankets and pillows? You'd think they'd want them to be comfortable, seeing as they plan to keep them…_

"Oh, yeah," Cam said, as if an afterthought. "I forgot. You're to take a new set of clothes out from the pile after they dry—the Elder said you needed some new ones so those you've got on can be washed."

Cam then motioned to the huge pile of dried linen. "Pick something out, and don't take all day. There's still more to do."

Glancing over the pile hastily, Reid drew out a large flannel shirt and a pair of pants the looked like they might fit. He hoped for a pair of socks, but had them taken away as soon as he reached for them.

"Not those," said Cam. "No socks. Not yet, anyway."

_Not yet? Does that mean I'll get a pair eventually?_

"Hey," Patrick cried sharply, "that's _my_ shirt. _And_ my pants."

"Tough," said Cam. "Elder says he gets them. Take it up with him, you don't like it."

"I don't see you giving up _your_ clothes," countered Patrick.

"I'm also not his size," said Cam simply. "Only ones who are are you, Brian, and Mark. And Brian's nearly out of clothes."

"Then give him Mark's stuff."

"No dice. He gets what he's got."

Patrick scowled, and sent a murderous glare towards Reid, who was shaking on the inside. Outwardly, he remained motionless, hoping he could just blend into the background. He hated the idea of being put into further debt.

Finally, Patrick stormed off, muttering something underneath his breath. Cam simply turned towards the young agent and said, "He'll get over it."

"He…he doesn't seem like me, very much," Reid said, hoping to see what sort of reaction he would get with this young man. Though he was a trained profiler, he found that trying to profile a whole subculture was just too overwhelming. It was better to work on an individual basis.

Cam, for his part, just shrugged. "Patrick's always been a little hotheaded," he said. "Spoiled, too. He got raised by Grace—he's the youngest son of the old Elder, Thomas. I never knew the man—the Campbell girl made sure he went up before I got to deal with him."

"I wonder about him," Reid said, half to himself.

"He'll come around," Cam said evenly. "Else the Elder will put him out. Truth be told, I hope he does. Patrick's a pain in the ass."

 _In more ways than one_ , Reid thought.

"Come on, put those on. There's still the rest of the kitchen linen to do."

Resignedly, Reid quickly pulled the new clothes on, and once again began to scrub the endless pile of linen.


	9. Chapter 9

Morning brought on a whole new set of challenges to the small party making their way through Kite Country. Within twenty minutes of walking, the group managed to slog through ankle-deep mud, nearly trip over partially hidden animal burrows and find themselves entangled in the limbs of a thorny bush.

"What _is_ this thing?" cried Morgan as he continued to try and pull herself free from the prickly branches. The thorns were small and sharp, like a smaller version of those on a rosebush---only there were several thousand of them as opposed to the few on a rose.

"Honestly? No idea," Katie said, working with her Benchmade to cut the entrapping branches. "But they are a pain in the ass."

After several minutes, the girl managed to work Morgan's coat free. Another couple were spent trying to get all the thorns out of the sleeves and back of the garment.

"You know, I've said it before, but I'll say it again— _how_ the _hell_ did you get through all this by yourself?" he asked.

A silence reigned over Katie Campbell. "I didn't want to die," she said finally, once again leading the party through the vast wilderness.

"I thought these Kites weren't interested in killing women," chimed Emily. "Went against their 'plan' for them."

"They don't, not normally. Let's just say that they'd already dealt with my mom, and then my dad, and—ah, I wasn't much more cooperative."

"So they'd just kill you, right on the spot?"

"No. I was here three days before Pop made it through. And I gave them hell every minute of it. By the time they caught up to us, they were well-and-pissed with us Campbells and all the 'trouble' we caused."

"Trouble?" Morgan queried.

Hotch, for his part, said nothing. He had managed to hear most of this story the night before.

"Yeah, trouble—calling the Kites out for stealing all those women and for taking my mom, for making things generally difficult for them whenever they came to town; which wasn't that often anyway, they only came to buy a few linens, get liquor and get drunk. I didn't help matters any, screaming and fighting and generally not cooperating with their 'plans' for me…"

"They planned to use you as a concubine," Hotch said finally.

The agents heard their guide take a deep breath. "Yeah. Planned to 'pair' me off with Thomas Kite's youngest, Patrick—kid was a bastard at thirteen, I doubt he's changed much in fifteen years."

"What'd you do?" Emily asked.

"Let's just say that I'm sure he's not having kids on account of me. I should hope not—I kicked him hard enough, and several times. Caught all sorts of hell for that one; Patrick was his father's favorite, though his eldest—William, I think his name is—is the cooler head. Lucky for us, if they follow tradition, William will be the Elder now, and there might be a chance we can reason with him if the whole thing goes to hell."

It amazed Emily that the girl could remember such things about a family she so clearly despised, and all for something that happened so long ago. Most people in Katie's position often tried to repress those memories, at least in her professional experience; though she never did fail to surprise at the uniqueness of an individual's coping mechanism.

Just then she heard a sharp _snap_ sound underneath her feet. Startled, Emily froze, but it was too late—there was a whooshing sound as something grabbed her ankle and jerked her leg upward.

"Catch her!" Katie called out, and both Hotch and Morgan raced over to keep Emily from hanging by her feet.

Katie took hold of Emily's arms and handed her knife to Hotch, the tallest of the group. Several minutes later, the fraying rope snapped under pressure from the sharp blade, and Emily was free.

"There's traps?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"Yeah. We're about a third of the way in—I was wondering when these would show up."

"You knew about these?" Hotch asked. It really wasn't a question.

"I did tell you about something like this before you set foot in here," Katie countered. "Just watch your step from here on in—these aren't the only kinds of traps you're like to find."

Morgan began scouting his next three steps carefully. "Well, what else is there?"

"Pitfalls, smooth bear traps, more rope traps, couple of nets…and we haven't gotten to the last third yet."

"What's there?"

"Barbed wire. Lined in the ground, spikes up for all to see. It's a bitch…but then, so was the guy who planted it."

The group cautiously continued making their way north. The three agents wondered how on earth they were going to get themselves out of this in one piece—as well as their missing colleague and the four little girls.

By twilight Morgan had had just about enough of the great outdoors. He knew he had to continue on in order to save Reid and the girls, but the constant surprises the wilderness had to offer were beginning to wear on his already overworked nerves.

The group had managed to make their way through miles of overgrown brush, avoid three more rope traps, catch themselves before stepping into a smooth bear trap (Hotch seemed to have the worst luck with these), and avoid two pitfalls.

The agent was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. Plodding ahead, he kept putting one foot in front of the other when all of a sudden there was a sharp _crack_ that echoed from under his feet.

Morgan quickly pulled his foot away. He didn't want to end up like Emily had earlier, hanging from a tree by his feet.

To his surprise, however, nothing more moved. Gingerly picking up his feet, he saw several large cream-colored fragments sticking up out of the cover of leaves.

"Hey, guys, come look at this," he called out, careful not to shout too loudly. The closer they got to their destination, the more Katie Campbell warned them about talking too much—they didn't want to attract attention to themselves.

"What is that?" Katie asked, picking up one of the long pieces. She ran it through her fingers a few times before handing it over to Hotch's waiting hands. "It's not wood…"

"No, it's not," Hotch concurred. He too ran his fingers over the fragment before having a closer look at the rest of the pile—they were smaller, more splintered, and in places worn at the edges.

"Over here," Emily called, and the group saw more of the same just a foot or so nearby. While most of the substance was in splinters, there were a few things that remained recognizable.

"Looks like a soup bone," Katie said.

"I don't think this one was for soup," said Emily. She pulled a bone about a foot long from the dirt. "These look human to me."

Katie stepped back. "Oh, God," she said.

"I thought you said these people didn't' kill women," Morgan countered.

"They don't—not usually."

"Usually? What the hell does that mean?"

Katie swallowed hard. "Sometimes, the women try to run away—despite all the traps and barricades and whatnot. The life that lays ahead for them in here is just too much for them to bear, I think—I know that's what I thought, anyway."

"So this might be one of those women? One of those who just ran off?"

"Maybe. Usually not too many get this far from inside—the traps are more frequent near the encampment and the barbed wire-spikes are plentiful."

"What are you saying?" Emily asked. She didn't like the sound of this.

"It's more likely that this woman was 'put' here—I heard once that they were known to take really uncooperative women, maim them somehow, and then leave them in a spot in the woods just to die."

"My God," said Emily.

"They don't do that much, though, if I understand it correctly. Too much trouble to waste a valuable woman, if you catch me. Whoever this woman was, she must really have put up one hell of a fight…"

Hotch set the bone fragment down. Emily did the same with the whole bone she held in her hands. Everyone was thinking the same thing—if the girls didn't cooperate, would they even get there to find them in time?

* * *

Sitting down to a small table in the back of the 'kitchen,' Reid had never felt so exhausted in his life. He could barely pick up the fork he'd been given to eat with, and his arms wanted nothing more than to hang limp near his sides.

He looked around the large room. There were three large bench-style tables lined end-to-end, certainly enough to seat the fifteen or twenty men Reid knew made their home here. Another long counter lay bolted on one of the far walls; it served as a serving area for everyone to take what they wanted from what was available.

The young agent looked at his own plate. It had mashed potatoes with some sort of gravy poured overtop of them, two pieces of black bread and butter, and a piece of dark meat Reid thought might be some sort of wild game. He had not been allowed to go up to the sideboard to choose; the plate had been brought to his isolated little table by a woman who looked like a taller version of Garcia, but without the technical analyst's warm personality. This woman reminded Reid too much of Patrick, who was still shooting murderous daggers towards the young agent.

"Eat," the woman, who Reid guessed was Grace, said sharply. "There's dishes to help with in the back.

The thought of his aching hands in more water was enough to put Reid out of much of an appetite. He picked at the items on is plate, although he'd eaten nothing since the morning before.

As soon as one of the younger men finished eating, Grace handed him four plates. "Take Brian with you and give these to those girls," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "And make sure they eat it!"

"Yes, ma'am," the young man said, then collected Brian and took off.

 _They don't even let those girls out to eat with the rest of them,_ Reid thought. _They're using isolationism to break the girls from running…_

"You got a problem with my cooking, boy?"

The voice snapped the young agent from his thoughts. "N-no," Reid said, picking up his fork once again. Though his stomach protested, Reid began to eat what was on the plate.

"Skinny thing, aren't you?" Grace remarked. "Probably couldn't lift a log if your life depended on it." Without waiting for a reply, the woman strode back into the kitchen.

The room began to clear out, one by one, until only Grace and Reid were left. The sounds of water on the stove sang through the room, and then pitched to a boil as the heat rose.

"Well, what are you standing there for?" Grace snapped. "Go on, clear out those plates!"

Reid turned and looked at the string of tables. There were dishes _everywhere_ , as well as the large containers of food that had gone untouched. Resignedly, he made his way over to the piles of plates and silverware and began gathering them up, taking them and putting them in the large metal tub of water near the stove. He knelt over the tub, scrubbing all the plates until they shone in the firelight.

After about three hours, all of the dishes had been washed and stacked. Reid was about to drop to the floor in exhaustion—the lack of sleep, the hours of physical labor and the lack of food was beginning to take its toll on the young agent.

Grace stuck her head out and called for someone; Reid didn't even manage to catch the names in the fog covering his head. Moments later, Patrick and Keith arrived, grabbing Reid by the arms and forcing him back towards his cell.

"I see you managed to survive the first day," mocked Patrick softly in Reid's ear. "Congratulations."

The young agent said nothing. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was fall asleep the second he was locked inside his prison.

"'Course, come tomorrow there'll be more to do," Patrick said. "Seems those girls need proper beds now, and those'll need making…"

"Thought Nicolas was supposed to do that," said Keith.

"He is, but it takes time, four at once. He asked for a little help, and a 'little' help he's going to get." Shoving Reid sharply in the back, he chuckled. "Pretty boy here is gonna learn how to use a proper mallet…"

As soon as the door slammed shut and was tied fast, Reid collapsed. He didn't want to think about what was in store for him the next day…

The night air held a chill to it, and Reid was shivering. Even though the clothes he'd been given were much warmer than those he'd had on originally, he still fought the cold as bravely as he could. His teeth had taken on a slight chatter, and he had lost all hope of sleep.

Suddenly, there was a small _creak_ that emanated from near the door. Reid turned over quickly, afraid that Patrick had come to torment him while there was no one to stop him.

A figure crept closer—in the dim light, the young agent could tell it was one of the girls.

"Spencer?" a small voice asked. It was Carrie.

"Carrie? How did you get in here?"

"Through the door. I can unlatch them myself—I have small hands."

"What…what are you doing here?"

The girl sat down next to Reid, who was still lying on the ground. "Can you help me? Help me go home?"

"Of course," Reid said. He was more awake now, and he pulled himself up.

"Come on then," she said, motioning him towards the door. "This way…"

 _She seems to have it all planned out,_ the young agent thought. _If that's the case, why does she need my help?_

The two crept out of Reid's cell and moved as silently as possible towards the large building where Carrie and the other girls were being housed. Once inside, Reid was surprised to see Beth and Maria waiting for them, holding up a less flushed and more alert Elisha.

He took a minute to give Elisha the once-over. "How're you feeling?" he asked Elisha gently.

"A little better. I'm not as hot anymore."

_I'll be damned. The ducking did help. Huh._

"They're gonna 'pair' us off," said Maria, trying to explain herself. "I don't wanna be forced to…"

"How do you know that?"

"Heard some of them talking," Carrie supplied. "They said that we had to 'get used to things' around here, and that they were done waiting…"

"Come on," said Reid, relieving the girls of Elisha's burden. "Let's go."

The party set off, quietly as possible. Carrie led the way, while Reid managed to lead Elisha while supporting her thin frame. He would have liked to have carried her, seeing as she was still not 100 percent, but his own arms were so worn out from the labor he'd done that day that lifting even a feather would have been a monstrous task.

Cautiously, Carrie led the small party around part of the shallow ridge that created a natural obstacle to keep them inside. "Be careful," she whispered. "There's traps everywhere…"

As quickly as they could, the five tried to stay on the path if at all possible. They hadn't gotten very far when suddenly Beth stopped short and let out a sharp cry.

"What is it?

"My foot—it hurts," she said, holding back a sob. "I stepped on something…"

"Ow!" Maria cried, holding her own foot as well. "So did I!"

Backing away from the space where they stood, Reid saw the glint of something in the moonlight. Reaching down, he saw what it was that had caused the girls to cry out—it was a long line of barbed wire, with excessively long spikes. Standing up, he saw that there were hundreds of spikes everywhere—it was a miracle that Carrie hadn't cut her own feet on them.

"We can't go this way," Reid said finally. He turned to Carrie, who looked heartbroken. "Is there another way?"

"Not one I know…the rest have all sorts of things waiting for us…"

"Well, let's take our chances," Reid said finally. "Where's the next nearest path?"

"O-over there," the girl pointed. Beth had torn part of her shirt off and wrapped it around her wound; Maria had done likewise. Wincing in pain, the two girls began heading west in the direction Carrie had pointed out.

The little party didn't manage to make it more than a few minutes in that direction before suddenly the ground fell from underneath them—it was a pitfall, designed for large game. The five fell into the pit, landing hard on the ground and looking up at the slick-straight walls of their prison.

The sound of the fall echoed through the woods, like the sound of a tree falling dead in the forest.


	10. Chapter 10

The dust settled, and Reid slowly began picking himself up off the ground. "Is anyone hurt?" he asked, keeping his voice a whisper. He knew it was for naught, considering the amount of noise they'd just made—a herd of elephants in full stampede would have been quieter—but he still wanted to prolong the imminent 'punishment' he knew the Kites would give them as long as possible.

There was a chorus of soft 'no's that came in reply. Elisha coughed, her illness getting the better of her for a moment.

Standing up, Reid tried to gauge how deep a hole he and the girls were in. Even when he reached his fingers over his head to their limit, he still couldn't reach the top.

 _Probably about eight feet,_ he reasoned. _What on earth was this put here for? To catch a bear? A deer? Or as a measure to keep escaping captives from getting too far?_

_My luck, probably all three._

Carrie straightened herself out and began running her hands along the slick earth walls. "There's nowhere to grab onto," she cried softly. "We can't climb out…"

_Climb out…_

Thinking quickly, Reid knelt down next to Carrie. "How tall are you?" he asked.

Carrie shrugged. "Maybe…four-nine? Why?"

Knowing he was going to hurt like the devil afterwards, Reid sat himself next to the wall. "Climb onto my shoulders," he told the girl.

Carrie did, after a few hesitant starts. Though she was small, she was solid, and it took Reid a few tries to be able to lift the girl up. "Can you reach the top of the ground?" he called up, still keeping his voice quiet as possible.

"Yeah."

"Reach around for something to hold onto, and use it to pull yourself out."

There was a soft _tapping_ and _scratching_ sound as Reid and the girls heard Carrie searching for something on the ground. After a few minutes, something rustled above them.

"Got …." She never finished the sentence.

"Well, now," a familiar voice crooned. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Carrie screamed, and began flailing her arms back, trying to push herself back into the hole. A strong pair of hands caught her by the arm and pulled her off of Reid's shoulders, kicking and screaming.

"Now," said the voice—it was one Reid instantly recognized—"I know that you don't have four-foot legs, so how is it you could reach the top of that trap…?"

Reid sank to the ground once again, praying that the voice's owner wouldn't look in.

He wasn't that lucky.

"Well, now, pretty boy," cackled Patrick. "Looks like you fell into a hole."

"Let her go," Reid shouted, mustering up all the courage he had. "Let her go and leave us alone."

"You're in no position to be _telling_ me to do _anything_ , boy," Patrick snapped. "'s high time these girls learned their place here—perhaps a _private_ lesson would cure this one of her 'itchy feet'…" He chuckled, an evil tone to his laughter.

"Don't!" cried Beth, who sprang up next to Reid. "Please, just lave us alone?"

"Ohhhh," Patrick crooned. "You've got company in there…"

Poking his head into the hole, he saw Reid fallen on the ground; Elisha and Maria had tried to use the young agent as a shield, hiding as much of themselves underneath Reid as they could. Beth was standing next to the three, alternating between furious glares and pleading looks.

"Seems the Elder told you to stay away from these girls," Patrick said in a mock-patronizing sort of voice.

Reid said nothing. He was busy berating himself for letting them get caught.

Soon there was a cacophony of sounds above his head. Footsteps mixed with the cocking of rifles and loud shouts.

"What's going on here, Patrick?" came another familiar voice. Reid recognized it as the Elder's voice.

"That boy defied orders, sir," Patrick said, his tone at once submissive. "Tried to escape; managed to get himself caught. Seems he had a little company," he added, noting the struggling girl caught in his grasp.

The Elder poked his head down into the hole. His face at once turned beet-red and his eyes snapped with anger.

"Pull them out," he barked.

Below, the girls sank closer to the ground, trying to avoid the ropes and extended hands that meant to pull them back into their personal hell.

"Take the ropes," the Elder ordered. Below him, no one moved a muscle.

Pulling a rifle out of a nearby hand, the Elder pointed it straight at the small group huddled at the bottom of the pit. "Take them, or so help me I'll shoot you myself." He cocked the rifle and pointed it straight at Reid to emphasize his point.

Below, Reid stared up into the barrel of the weapon, swallowing hard. It wasn't that he was afraid to die; rather, it was the thought of the girls unprotected that scared him more.

"Girls, do what he says," Reid said as calmly as possible, trying not to frighten them further.

"No," sobbed Maria.

"I'm not going back there," said Beth flatly.

Elisha just cried, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Listen to me," Reid whispered. "There are people that will be looking for me, and for you too. If we do what he says, we can go back and wait for my friends to come and help us."

The girls looked at Reid for a minute, saying nothing.

"They're really coming?" Beth asked.

"I promise," Reid replied softly. _For all our sakes, I hope so._

Hesitantly, the girls each took one of the ropes and allowed themselves to be pulled out. Once they were collected, Reid could hear the cries and protests of each girl as they were dragged back to the Kites' encampment.

Reid let out a long breath. _They're all right. For the moment, anyway…_

A rope fell near Reid's head. Heaving a sigh, he unwillingly took it in his hands and let himself be pulled up.

Once he reached the top, two pairs of strong hands seized the young agent. Reid struggled, just wanting to be left alone, but a vicious backhand across the face stopped him cold.

"I warned you, boy," the Elder growled. "I told you to stay away from those girls. I also told you not to try escaping. And what did you do?!"

Reid began to speak, but another strike to his thin frame knocked his words out of him. He gasped, trying to recover his breath.

"Not a word," the Elder snapped. "Mark me, I should just shoot you now and be done with you, all the trouble you've been."

The young agent's eyes widened. He began breathing erratically, trying to quell the insane fear that rose in his throat.

"If I may," Patrick began slowly.

"What?"

"'Could use him as an object lesson. A 'reminder' to those girls what happens when they misbehave."

The Elder stood for a moment, considering his youngest brother's words. After a long few minutes, he finally lifted the rifle and turned towards Patrick.

"What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Even with another five hours of sleep, Emily did not feel rested enough to go through another day of expert wilderness hiking. She turned and looked at their guide, who had once again 'kept watch' while everyone else slept. _How the hell does she_ _ **do**_ _it?_ she thought.

The foursome had managed to avoid another plethora of pitfalls, snares, smooth bear traps (Hotch _still_ managed to set those off, though not as frequently now). It simply boggled Emily's mind that these people could navigate their way through all of this.

"It's a wonder that these haven't been set off," she said, once again keeping her voice low.

"Well, ma'am, no one really gets this far," Katie said simply.

"I mean, by the wild animals and such."

"Oh." There was a pause. "I'm sure they do, now and again; wouldn't surprise me if they didn't check a lot of these regularly for just that very thing," the girl replied.

"Do they eat whatever they catch?" Emily asked.

"If it can be, yeah, I would assume."

There was a rustling up ahead, followed by a large _thud_. Katie stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide.

Hotch reached for his ankle—though Katie had advised not bringing firearms with them, he just couldn't go through the trek without some sort of protection. 21 feet or no 21 feet, he was pretty sure these Kites would have firepower of their own.

Morgan tensed. Like Emily, he was running on borrowed energy, and he _really_ didn't want to face these crazy people on less than 100 percent.

The four stood perfectly still for a few moments, trying to blend in with the surrounding trees. After about five minutes, Katie cautiously started toward the origin of the sound.

"It's all right," she called back, waving them over.

Hotch was the first to arrive, and he lowered his pistol only when he saw the source of the sound—it was a large tree limb that had fallen from its perch.

"Scary," said Emily, looking up. The limb had to have fallen nearly twenty feet.

"Look out," Katie said, gently pushing everyone to one side. She ran her toes along a line that appeared in the dirt. Picking up a section of the broken branch, she tossed it over about a foot.

The branch landed on the green cover, then sank another eight or so feet. "Pitfall," she said. "That was close."

"That's like the fourth one we've run into," Morgan commented. "How many of these things _are_ there?

"A lot."

There was something else lying on the ground. It glittered in the sporadic sunlight.

"What is that?" Hotch asked.

Morgan knelt down next to the shiny object. Running his hands over the ground nearby, he replied "It's a spike. Lots of 'em."

"We're almost there," Katie said. "The barbed-wire lines."

At nightfall, the foursome reached the edge of the treeline.

"Stop there," Katie called out in a hushed whisper.

The three agents soon saw why. Not more than a foot away from the trees, the ground sank into a steep fall, creating a wide flat plain surrounded on one side by a natural breakwall. The three agents and their guide stood there a minute, able to see everything that was happening in the little encampment below.

"Take these," Katie said, producing two pairs of binoculars. "Make sure to cover the tops with your hands—you don't want to give us away."

Hotch and Morgan took the binoculars and laid out on their stomachs. The cover was excellent, and provided them with a good view of what was going on below.

"We'll have to wait a day," Hotch said finally. "We need to know what these people's movements are like, and we need to find out where they're keeping Reid and the girls."

Katie settled in, once again preparing for a long, sleepless night.


	11. Chapter 11

Reid wanted very much to just fall asleep. He'd been worked harder than he'd ever been worked in his life the day before, and he'd spent most of the night trapped in the pitfall trap, along with the girls. However, his current situation was not going to let him get the rest he so desperately wanted.

True to his word, Patrick had convinced the Elder to make the young agent an 'object lesson' for the girls. He was marched back to the encampment, only to be forced into what reminded Reid of an old-fashioned pair of stocks, with a twist: his ankles were locked in between the boards, and he was forced to sit on another pair that was fastened around his wrists. The setup was rather ingenious—it made the person locked inside of them have to sit straight up or risk pulling on either his legs or his arms for very long.

"Since you seem to like being outside, here's where you'll stay," the Elder said after locking the stocks tightly. "Maybe now you'll learn to follow directions when you're told not to do something."

With that, the small party of Kites returned to their beds, leaving Reid to 'think' on his actions.

 _Terrific,_ he thought. He tried pulling on his bonds, but the wood was strong and the locks held fast. Reid considered pulling himself off of the boards he sat on, but the action only served to wrench his arms to the point of breaking.

He looked up towards the trees lining the ridge, looking for some small hope that help was on its way.

There was nothing. Not a flash, a glimpse, or a sound. Only the calls of the owls and other night creatures rang through the young agent's ears.

 _Great._ _ **Now**_ _what am I going to do?_ he thought.

* * *

The next morning proved to be one of the hottest days of the year. In the thick flannel shirt and the jeans Reid wore, he could feel the sweat pouring out of him like a faucet.

He was stiff from the position he was forced to remain in. The Kites had left him in the stocks all night, and by early afternoon there seemed to be no indication he would be let out anytime soon. Reid watched as several of the Kites came and went throughout the day, but no one would speak to him, much less give him anything to eat. Reid's stomach growled, and his mouth began to feel as though he'd eaten a bowl of cotton.

 _What I wouldn't give now for a sip of water,_ he thought.

Just then a familiar figure strode up to the restrained young man.

_Oh, terrific. What does_ _**he** _ _want_ _**now**?_

"Looks like you might want a bit of this," Patrick said, holding a metal bucket in his hands. Without warning, he tossed the contents of the container right onto the young agent—it was water, freezing cold and chilling to the bone, even in the hot sun.

"Oops. I must have missed. Oh well," Patrick trilled. The smile on his face could have lit up the national Christmas tree. "At least my clothes are clean again—relatively, anyway."

Reid coughed and sputtered, trying to catch his breath and shake the water out of his face. He longed to wipe the sodden hair out of his eyes, but his hands were useless to him in the position he was held in.

"Leave me alone," he spat, lifting his head to glare at the arrogant man.

"Ah, now, what fun would that be?" Patrick asked rhetorically. He walked over a few feet and snapped a long, thin branch off of a nearby birch tree.

"What…what are you doing?" Reid asked, fear creeping into his voice.

"Teaching you a lesson," replied his tormentor.

With that, he struck Reid across the legs; just hard enough to cause pain. "Don't want to ruin my favorite pair of pants," he crooned, striking the young agent again and again.

Reid wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that they could hear him in the next county, but he held it inside. He didn't want to give Patrick the reaction he seemed to crave from him.

"Come on," Patrick spat. "Scream. Yell. _Do_ something!"

Reid remained silent. _If I do what he wants, he'll never stop. He'll keep at me until he drives me insane or kills me, whichever comes first._

The blows continued to rain down on him, fast and sure. Patrick graduated to striking Reid across the chest and shoulders—he avoided the head, for some unknown reason, preferring to hurt the young agent in places he could normally protect but couldn't in his current position.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came a voice, incensed.

Patrick stopped his abuse at once. "I'm teaching him a lesson," he said curtly. "What business is it of yours?"

The voice belonged to Cam, who snatched the switch out of Patrick's hands. "I don't care if you're older than me or not," he said, "but I know for certain that beating the shit out of him wasn't on the list of things to do today!"

"Maybe it was," Patrick countered. "Not like you'd know…"

"I know damn well it wasn't. And so do you. Now, we can keep this quiet, and you can go about your chores for the day, or I can bring this up with your brothers, and they'll let _you_ have it." Cam stood there, his fists clenched. Reid could tell he was just itching for Patrick to tell him off.

"Fine. Have it your way," Patrick huffed, and set off towards the woods.

The younger man stood near Reid for a long few moments after Patrick left. "Bastard," he spat, staring at the figure of his retreating cousin.

Reid swallowed thickly. "Thank you," he said in a low voice.

"Don't thank me," Cam said evenly. "You still need to learn your place. I just don't' want you broken up so that you can't work. Bit nice, not having to do all the crap chores myself anymore."

With that, the younger man dropped the switch and stalked off, leaving Reid fastened to the stocks and dripping besides.

_How long am I gonna have to sit like this? Haven't I been 'punished' enough?_

Another two hours passed by. _Obviously not._

* * *

The sun began to sink over the treeline along the ridge. Reid could barely feel his legs anymore; his backside had gone numb some three hours before. He longed to move his arms, even an inch. His wrists were chafing on the rough wood; his ankles had a couple of small splinters in them.

 _For the love of God, just shoot me now,_ the young agent thought. _This is beginning to make those three days in Georgia seem like a picnic…_

His head was beginning to fog, and his stomach was gnawing on itself. He was starving, but there was no way for Reid to address its protestations. He hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to get some small measure of sleep even in his current state.

A soft sound padded near him, and he could feel small hands pressing gently on his fixed arms.

"Are you awake?" a little voice asked.

Reid lifted his head and looked at the source of the voice. It was Elisha; still a little colored from her illness but otherwise looking much better than she had been even a day ago.

"Elisha, what are you…"

"Here," she said, holding something in her hands. It was a piece of black bread and a chunk of something white. "Eat this."

"I.." Reid began, tipping his head towards his bound arms.

The girl crept closer towards him and put the food up to his mouth. Feeling a little sheepish that he needed to be 'fed,' Reid nonetheless ate what was offered thankfully.

"Here," she said, picking up a small metal cup. It was full of water. Elisha held this up as well, and Reid drank the liquid in heaving gulps.

"Thank you," he whispered, giving the girl a small smile.

"I'm sorry they put you here," she said. "It was our fault."

"No," he replied, staring straight her. "I knew what I was doing when I agreed to help you. This isn't your fault, okay?"

Elisha nodded, but the young agent could tell she didn't believe him.

"You should get going," he told her gently. "I don't want you to get caught…"

"I don't care," the girl said, conviction creeping into her voice. "You were trying to help us; you tried to help me when they wanted to throw me in the water. Two weeks I've been here, and the only one who's tried to be nice to me is you, aside from the other girls." She coughed a little, trying to keep it as quiet as she could.

"Still, I don't want you getting hurt on my account," Reid insisted.

"It's okay," she said. "What's your name? I..I didn't get to ask you before…"

Reid gave her another small smile. "It's Spencer."

Elisha smiled back.

"Now, go on, before they catch you," the young agent told her. The young girl quickly checked to make sure the coast was clear, then crept back to the large building that she was being kept in.

 _She must have had to sneak that out of the kitchen,_ Reid thought. _There'll be hell to pay if they find out…_

The food began to settle in his stomach, and sleep weighed heavily across his eyes. Before long, the young agent's head drooped onto his chest, and soft snores emanated from his lips.

* * *

A creaking sound woke Reid with a start. His eyes flew open and took in a sight he thought he'd never see—the sight of Hotch and Morgan working the locks off the stocks with a crowbar.

"Bet you're glad to see us," Morgan whispered.

"You have no idea," Reid said, a smile of relief washing over his face.


	12. Chapter 12

It was no easy task, trying to work the locks off of the contraption that help Reid in place. _Ingenious,_ Hotch thought. _The whole thing is so simple, and yet can cause a lot of pain and grief…_

Both he and Morgan worked at removing the locks. Once the team had managed to sneak into the encampment, Katie had produced a large crowbar. "You're gonna need this," she'd said before taking Emily by the arm and heading toward a large wooden building. "Be careful."

 _Careful_ was an understatement. Though the wood was old, it was as strong as ever, and the locks stubbornly refused to move. Trying to remove them while staying as quiet as possible proved to be a real trick.

"You're all right?" Hotch asked his young colleague, giving him the once-over.

"I'll live," Reid whispered. "How did you…"

"There was one person that knew how to get back here," Morgan began. "She led us here; she's with Prentiss right now getting the girls."

Sure enough, a few minutes later Reid saw the familiar face of Emily Prentiss, along with the four girls and another young woman that looked to be about his age. "Done?" she whispered.

"Just about…" The last lock fell off with a soft _clang_ in the dirt. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if they'd been heard.

No one moved. No one breathed. Nothing stirred.

"Clear," said the five adults. It took Reid a moment to get his bearings—his legs and arms were numb and uncooperative after being forced into one position for nearly twenty-two hours.

The young woman's eyes danced over the whole of the encampment, only pausing a moment on the large metal pole in the center. On seeing this, her face hardened, and a sad look flashed over her—but only for a moment.

"Come on," she said. "Kites will be up any minute."

Morgan pulled out the pair of shoes from his pack. "Put these on," he whispered to Reid. "You'll need 'em, trust me."

After doing so, the party of nine set out. Hotch had wondered what the shoes had been for, and he now understood—one of the methods of keeping prisoners the Kites used was to take their shoes, leaving their feet exposed to the dangers that lay in the woods. _For being somewhat backward, they certainly are clever,_ he thought.

The young woman led the small caravan, picking her way through the traps and sharp objects up the edge of the ridge and into the elevated treeline. They couldn't move very fast, on account of Reid still needing to get his circulation working again and one of the girls—a fourteen year-old named Elisha—was still recovering from some sort of illness. The two walked together; it seemed the girl didn't feel quite safe unless Reid was nearby.

One of the other girls, a twelve year-old named Carrie, strode along with their guide, trying to help navigate the dangers that lay in the woods. The young woman was grateful for the help, as she admitted to the girl that it had been a long time since she'd done this.

"You got through here?" Carrie asked, somewhat surprised.

"Uh-huh."

"No," Carrie said. "Impossible."

"How so?" The young woman allowed the conversation to continue, though in whispers; they were about half-a mile from the ridge and well out of the Kites' earshot.

"Everyone knows the story," Carrie insisted. "Only one person ever made it out, and she's long gone by now…"

"Thank God for airplanes."

All of a sudden, the girl stopped dead in her tracks. Hotch, who had been watching all this from a few steps away, realized that the young girl looked like she'd just met her idol.

"You're…you're the Campbell girl?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yep. You can call me Katie. But we have to keep moving, okay?"

Carrie didn't have to be told twice. She'd taken all of three steps before she called softly "rope trap."

Sure enough, there was an unsprung rope trap laying before them. Reid watched as his colleagues make quick work of it and continued on.

 _How many of those things are out here?_ he thought to himself.

"More than you want to know," said Emily, catching Reid's look. "When they say 'you're not leaving,' they're not kidding."

"Don't I know it," Reid replied.

Suddenly there was a small hail of gunfire that rose up from the wooded valley. "Damn," Katie said. "We've gotta go…"

Moving quickly, the party tried to keep up with the young woman, but she was nearly running out of that spot. "Slow down!" Emily called out, noticing that Reid and Elisha were still moving slowly.

"We slow down, they catch us. They catch us, and things are only gonna be marginally better for you, ma'am. The rest of us…"

Emily caught the point. She leaned over towards Elisha and said, "We're gonna have to carry you. Is that okay?"

Elisha nodded wildly. "I don't wanna go back there," she said flatly.

"Morgan, give me a hand," Emily said.

Between the two agents, they managed to pick the girl up and begin moving south. After a few minutes, Morgan simply scooped Elisha up into his arms and said "Just go; we'll catch up."

The party made their way for another mile when suddenly Katie stopped dead in her tracks. A gunshot rang out, and then another.

"Well, well," said a smooth voice. "Look at what we have here."

 


	13. Chapter 13

"Fuck."

The word came out as a spat bullet. The four agents present had heard a lot of people say a lot of things, but never had that been presented as a declaration of complete and total defeat before.

"A pretty thing like you with a mouth like that?" the young man crooned. "Mind your tongue, girlie…there's little ones about."

At that mention, the girls began to take cover. Elisha tried to sink into Morgan's frame, keeping one hand firmly attached to Reid's arm. Carrie clung tightly to Katie's waist, standing as far behind her as she could. Beth tried to hide behind Hotch, and Maria followed close behind, standing between Hotch and Emily.

"Two shots," Katie said.

"Only two?" the young man said questioningly.

"Double barreled shotgun. Holds two rounds, and maybe another two if modified right. I'm going to assume yours is, and you shot off two rounds calling your cousins up the hill. Now, my question is…which two of us are you going to hit? Mind you, these four are decent shots, and I'm not bad myself. Hit the girls, and you've got all sorts of trouble."

"Or I could just take out those two in the back and keep the rest," the young man said, aiming straight for Morgan's head. As he was holding Elisha, he couldn't make a move towards the knife Katie has given him earlier.

Hotch stood perfectly still, ignoring the small pistol he still had in his ankle holster. It held six shots, and though he could easily take the young man, there wouldn't be enough ammunition left to take on the owners of the footsteps that were sounding in his ears.

Emily put her hands on Maria's shoulders, signaling to the crazy man with the shotgun that she wasn't giving up the girls without a fight. She too heard the gunshots and the footsteps, and they were coming close.

No one moved a muscle. The only sounds that escaped that space were the stifled cries of the young girls, who knew what waited for them.

"What'd you find?" called a voice, coming closer.

"Whole sort of interestin' things," the young man said. "Seems our boy has some friends he forgot to mention..."

An older man strode forward, looking at the nine people standing the woods. At the sight of Reid, he stopped.

"Forget to tell me something, boy?" he snapped, leveling his own rifle at the young agent's head.

Terrified, Reid said nothing.

"I wouldn't do that," Hotch said, making his own voice as authoritative as the one who held Reid at gunpoint.

"Really?"

"You shoot him, that's one thing, but the bullet will travel through him and into the girl. You really want her to die?" Hotch asked.

"Girl's sickly. Might be better off."

_Damn._

"In any case, seems there's a different problem," the older man continued. "Seems like I got people trespassing, stealing things that don't belong to them."

This last statement irked Morgan. "They're not _things._ They're _people._ Four little girls and a federal agent."

Morgan's statement made the man with the shotgun begin to chuckle. "Something funny?"

"You mean…to tell me…that that kid…is government?" the younger man said, pausing through his laughter.

"Surprise," said Katie in a lilting voice. The young man instantly fell silent.

By now the entire encampment had surrounded the little party, and it was obviously clear that they would not be making their escape in this fashion. Upon seeing Emily and Katie, a few of the men made some rather loud catcalls, causing involuntary shivers to rise up both women's spines.

The man holding the shotgun strode over to Katie, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "You're kind of cute," he crooned. "Remind me of a girl I once knew…"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Ornery little bitch. She never could learn."

"Maybe I learn better."

"Maybe."

"Or maybe I'm more ornery." With that, Katie spat in the man's face.

The move earned her a vicious backhand. Behind her, Carrie screamed.

"I might just have to teach you some manners," the young man said pointedly. "At least your friends here know enough when to keep their mouths shut."

"Well, my folks forgot that lesson. Too busy telling stories about the Kites, I guess…"

The statement earned her another blow. Katie winced in pain, but then grinned, a slow, thoughtful grin.

"Enough!" said the older man, accentuating the point with a shot from his rife. "Patrick, knock it off. Go on and help the rest."

Sullenly, Patrick joined his relations in securing their 'property' as well as the 'trespassers.' Sidling up to Emily, he said, "Well now. Seems they do make them straight to order…"

Emily glared at him. "I don't think so."

"Well, miss, you _do_ know what they say about this place?"

 _That only deranged hicks would live here?_ she thought. Aloud, she said, "Something about not leaving, right?"

"And that," said Patrick as he led the agent down the hill into the encampment, "is very, very good news for me…and mine."


	14. Chapter 14

Night was beginning to fall as the little party was shoved along by their Kite captors. The going was slow, but every so often the business end of a rifle or shotgun would prod them forward.

Each person has at least two Kites near them, making sure they didn't try anything. Morgan, still carrying the exhausted Elisha, had no less than four around him.

"Don't want you getting any ideas," one of the Kites said. Morgan had learned through conversation that his name was Mark.

Not far ahead of him, Reid and Katie trudged along, their hands both tied firmly behind their backs. The man who'd first found them—Patrick—was having a merry time either shoving the two forward or tapping them in the back with his shotgun.

Hotch and Emily, along with two of the little girls, were out in front. The girls—Beth and Maria—walked between them. Neither of them wanted to be far from the people they hoped could still rescue them from this living nightmare.

In front of Reid, Carrie hung her head as she was forced along the darkening path. The two young people could hear her stifled cries as they made their way back to the Kite's encampment.

Katie turned her head, catching Reid's own glassed-over gaze. "I'm sorry," she said, in a normal tone of voice.

"Quiet," demanded Patrick, who poked her yet again in the back. "Keep moving."

"What, upset that you couldn't get any 'play'?" Katie mocked. "I'll bet you couldn't' even get that Campbell girl to look at you when you were of an age…"

"Shut. The hell. Up," Patrick said, drawing his hands around her throat. "Got no business taking about things you don't know about, bitch."

Katie shrugged. Turning her attention to Reid, she asked, "You know anything about the Campbells, Agent Reid?"

"N-no," Reid said, hoping to avoid another slap from Patrick's hand.

"I was telling your friend up there parts of the story," she said, tipping her head towards Hotch. "That is the way of local legends and folktales; it can only be told in parts." Raising her eyes a bit, she continued. "Would you like to know a part or two?"

"Okay," said Reid. _Finally, some answers. Maybe._

"Everyone knows about how Sean Campbell lost his wife to the Kites," Katie began, her voice taking on the tone of an old storyteller. The parties—rescue and Kite alike, all seemed to intuitively fall silent as they waited to hear the part the girl had to tell. "She got snatched, by Thomas Kite himself they say, not three weeks after she had given birth to a baby girl."

"Sean Campbell, well, he didn't take too well to that. People for miles told him she'd like as not just gone away to deal with some issues; told him it could be anything from depression over having the baby to just being tired of married life. Sean wouldn't hear a word of it, though."

"He loved his wife," Reid summarized.

"Very much. In any case, some twelve years went by, and still no sign of her. Time had passed; he got older, raised the daughter, and tried to come to terms with the fact that his Sarah wasn't coming home.

"Peculiar thing had happened, though, over the course of those twelve years—more young women, form in town and the nearby areas, would just 'vanish' from time to time. Married, single, kids, no kids, didn't matter. One day they'd just disappear, never to be seen again."

"Disappear," said Reid. He had a strong feeling he had heard this part.

"Yep. What Sean Campbell figured out, though, was that women, and sometimes a young girl, would only go missing after the Kite boys had been in to the bar. Big drinkers, the Kite boys--they'd load in every so often and close the place from time to time."

"Really?"

"Damn straight," chimed Patrick, chuckling.

"I guess things haven't changed much," Katie quipped. The comment earned her another poke in the back from a shotgun.

"Go on," said Patrick. "Now I'm curious."

The moon cast its brilliant light overhead, making it a little easier to navigate over the traps that lay in wait. The Kites marched their captives around each of these, not wanting to harm anyone of value nor have to go and reset the trap later.

Katie continued.

"Seems one day, Sean Campbell was in shooting some stick when the Kites made their trip in. What I understand, it was the usual—they took over the bar, raised some hell, bullied their way into everything they could. Sean Campbell, he decided that he'd finally had enough. He stood in front of Thomas Kite himself—the meanest, orneriest, nastiest bastard that ever walked—and told him he knew where all the girls had gone to.

"Now, they say that Thomas Kite laughed a bit, at first. Then he asked Sean Campbell just where it was they'd run off to, seeing as their 'men' couldn't seem to 'keep a hold of them.'"

"Wh-what did he say?" Reid ventured, more to keep the story going than for any other benefit.

"What did he say? I'll tell you. He told old Thomas that his folk—the Kites themselves—were the reason all those women were gone. He said that, in front of nearly half the town, and every Kite standing besides. He told Thomas Kite that he was going to end him, once and for all, and that he would tell him what he'd done with his wife Sarah."

"Didn't take to well to that," piped up a voice. It was the one belonging to the man called Keith.

Katie chuckled bitterly. "No. No, that he did not."

"What did this Thomas guy do?" called Morgan, now as interested as anyone.

"Thomas? Oh, well now, he didn't take to that at all. He let Sean Campbell storm out of the bar, and, it's said, sat down and poured himself a fifth of Scotch, and began to wait."

"Wait for what?" asked Hotch, who had heard this part. He realized she was going somewhere with this, so he decided to try and continue her along.

Katie stopped dead in her tracks, causing Patrick to slam into her solid frame. "Damn it, woman, move," he said, shoving her violently on down the path. It took a few minutes for her to get her bearings and right herself.

Up ahead lay the outlines of the wooden structures that made up the Kite's encampment. Reid and the girls all wore the same look of hopelessness on their faces as they were marched back toward the center of the encampment, toward the tall metal pole that stood sentry in the distance.

"Well, for that I must ask some permissions. Not right to tell a story not true." Turning to the Elder Kite, she asked, "May I?"

"Go on. I'm interested too, to tell the truth."

"Well, they say that later that night, on a night like this, a fire broke out in front of Sean Campbell's house. He was able to put it out, with the help of half the town, but when everything settled, he noticed his own daughter was missing."

"Missing?"

"Yep. Gone, just like all those women before."

"Well, what happened?" Emily asked.

"Well, ma'am, it's just as I think you figure—he knew his daughter was taken by the Kites—probably by Thomas Kite himself, just as his Sarah was supposed to have been so many years before. This time, though, he was wasting no time, and he decided to go in and get her himself."

"Yeah?" asked Morgan. "Why didn't he get some help himself, going in and all?"

"Ah, I see you don't know this part, Agent Morgan," Katie clucked. "No one went into Kite Country—not then, not now, until us. Stories come up from all over about Kites, and not ones I could repeat."

"So he went in…" Reid said, subtly urging her to continue.

The parties had stopped in front of the metal pole. Katie turned around to look the young agent straight in the eyes, as if this next part were only meant for him to hear.

"Well, he went in. Took three days, too, and I'm sure you've seen why," she said.

Reid nodded.

"Three days, and he managed to find his daughter on that third night. She was a mess—beaten, filthy, shoeless, and in tears. Nearly kicked him in a few places, simply because she thought he was another Kite trying to have a go at her."

"How old was she?" the young man asked.

"Twelve. One of Thomas's boys, it's said, took a 'liking' to her, and the old man 'gave' her to him as a gift. Kid was a spoiled bastard, they say, and she got in enough licks to make sure he'd never create more."

Patrick's face began to darken. A few other Kites, all older, began looking at the young woman with new interest.

"In any case, Sean Campbell got his daughter, and they started making their way out of Kite Country, back to their own house and the world outside. Didn't take them long to figure out what happened, though, and the Kites caught up to them, soon enough."

"What happened?" The voice belonged to Hotch, who waited patiently to hear the part of the story he was sure was coming.

Katie looked up at the top of the metal pole. He face radiated a lost sort of sadness in its features.

"They took them back," she began slowly. "Both of them. Thomas Kite, he was more pissed than anyone had ever seen him, including his own kin. He beat him nearly to death, over three days. Just…chained him up and started wailing on him—and they made his daughter watch. 'An object lesson,' he'd called it.

"My God," Emily breathed.

Katie took in a deep breath. "After that, Thomas Kite told Sean Campbell to give himself over to the old man as a 'slave;' more as a way to keep the younger man underneath his thumb and crush him as a threat to Kite traditions. He told him that the Kites ran things their way; that it had always been and would always be that way. He pulled the man's daughter close to him, and promised that once his son was 'done' with her, she'd be take by any Kite he so chose to have her."

No one spoke. No one moved. The silence of the night was so thick it could be cut with a hacksaw.

"What did he do?" Reid finally asked, in a very low voice.

"He refused them. He shouted that his daughter would not be taken by them, and that he'd get her out of Kite Country or die trying."

There was a pause. Then Katie looked at the pole again, and asked what seemed to be a very odd question:

"Do you know what it smells like, the scent of burning flesh?"

The comment was so random that no one answered. For once, every Kite there, Patrick included, said nothing.

"They burned him. They tied him to that pole, right there, and burned him alive. His son, the youngest, called Patrick, helped him stoke the fire and threw the match. They could hear his screams for miles—even the Kites covered their ears in order to drown them out. But Sean Campbell had gotten the last laugh—when everything settled, they noticed that his daughter had disappeared.

"They searched those woods for three days, and never did find her. She escaped; a feat so many older and stronger women before her had tried to accomplish."

"How do you…." Patrick trailed, his voice rising as if to demand.

"How? Isn't it obvious?"

Patrick stared at the pretty young captive before him.

"No…"

"Come now. Who else could tell the story? You? Not hardly."

Turning to face the four agents surrounding her, Katie said, "Sean Campbell was my father. I say this now, because it is likely I will die here, just as he did—but not without a fight."


	15. Chapter 15

Katie's words earned her a vicious blow to the stomach.

"Little _bitch!_ " Patrick screamed. "I should kill you now, for what you done…" His nostrils flared as he thought of the incident that left him, well, _less_ of a man than he would like.

Katie, who had doubled over trying to catch her breath from the blow, stared up at the seething Kite. "Go ahead. Not like we're leaving anyway." Looking up at Morgan, who still held Elisha, she said "Let's start with her first. Put her out of her misery."

Crazy as it seemed to the agent, Morgan understood what the young woman was trying to do. He shifted Elisha's weight slowly so that her feet hit the ground, and wrapped his hands around the girl's throat. To everyone watching, it seemed as if he might take Katie's suggestion seriously, though privately his colleagues knew Morgan would never do such a thing—not willingly, and not if he had other options of solving his predicament.

The move earned the agent several sharp blows from various rifle stocks. One of their guards—a young man called Cam—took Elisha from Morgan's grasp; the girl protesting and fighting every forced step.

"So you're the one who brought hell down onto Kite Country all those years ago," the Elder Kite said finally, having let the story the woman told completely sink in. "Well now, that changes things slightly."

"How so?" asked Hotch. He kept his voice low, but unmistakably clear.

"Never you mind that," Thomas Kite snapped. To his relatives he said:

"Take the girls and put them back in their building—and lock the door. Put the dark haired woman in with them. These three"--the Elder waved a hand at Reid, Hotch and Morgan—"get put up in that last one, as far from the girls as possible. And as for you, Miss Campbell, you're coming with me."

Pandemonium erupted.

"No! I'm not going back in there!" cried one of the girls.

"Get your hands off me," Morgan growled as two Kites began leading him towards his 'cell.'

Maria broke into heaving sobs. Emily tried to soothe the girl while fighting off the Kite leading her away from the group.

Reid collapsed on the ground where he stood, the hours of abuse and lack of sleep finally taking its toll on the young agent.

And Katie Campbell dug her heels into the ground where she stood. "No way are you getting me into one of those shacks," she spat. "I know what'll happen to me once I'm in there…"

It took several shotgun blasts to get everyone to fall silent.

"Move. Now. _All of you!_ " The Elder barked, his face a mirror into his thoughts.

Eight faces looked at Katie, who herself looked at Hotch. Finally, the older agent tipped his head, telling his people to do as they were told, but his face showed complete anger at having to give that order.

As the girls, Emily, and Katie were led away, the remaining agents fell in line as their guards shoved them into a shack slightly larger than the one Reid had previously occupied. It was solidly built, and this door was fastened with a metal lock as opposed to the leather mechanism on the other door.

"Shoes," one of the Kites said, his hands on his hips.

"What about them?" Morgan snapped.

"Take them off. Now."

"Like hell."

A second later there was a violent shove that sent Morgan to the ground and no less than three shotgun barrels pointed right at him. Two more were pointed at Reid and Hotch, almost daring the agents to interfere.

"Take them off," the man repeated.

Anger boiled inside as Morgan removed his shoes and set them aside.

"Socks too."

"You've got to be kidding…"

The barrels inched closer. "Socks."

The socks came off. Morgan put them inside the shoes.

"Now you two," the man said, turning towards Reid and Hotch. Though both agents wanted to put up a fight as Morgan had, they knew that it would lead nowhere. Morgan heard Reid heave a sigh as he relinquished the shoes he had had for only a brief moment.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it." With that, the men exited the cell, leaving three to stand guard at the door.

"Like I'm going to sleep _now,_ " Morgan muttered. He paced the inside of the small structure, running his hands over the tightly settled timbers that were sunk deep into the ground.

"You might as well," Reid said, trying to find a spot where Morgan wouldn't step on him as he paced. "The one I was in earlier was built similar to this one, and I still had to get out the front door. See how there's no light coming in through the cracks?"

"Of course there's no light, Reid—it's dark outside," Morgan countered.

"Full moon's pretty bright."

"So?"

"So the odds of us getting through the walls of this thing are slim and none," Hotch said, realizing what his youngest agent was getting at.

Just then a sharp rap pounded against the door. "Shut up in there!" one of the guards growled. "Get some sleep—you'll need it, believe you me."

The three men inside looked at each other. Reid simply curled up and tried to follow the advice.

"What does he mean by that, Reid?" Hotch asked in a whisper.

"Means unless Emily or that other girl has a plan, we're going to wish they'd shot us," Reid replied, remembering the day of work he'd left behind and the one he could see creeping up on him.

* * *

A few buildings over, Emily was trying to soothe the girls into sleep. It was slow work, and one of them—Carrie—was still trying to free the latch on the door.

"I'm not staying here," she said flatly. "I want to go home…"

"I know, sweetie," Emily said, trying to lead the girl back from the door. She could see the shadows of the men that were left to guard the entrance, and the timbers that made up the walls were sunk fairly deep. Emily wished she'd been able to hide the knife that Katie had given her better, but it had been easily found, as had Hotch's pistol and the machete that they had used two days ago. "Come over here and help me a little, okay?"

Confused, Carrie did as she was asked. She settled herself next to where Elisha lay and Beth sat.

"What can you tell me about these people?" Emily asked, hoping to gain a little information while keeping the anxious girls focused on something other than immediate escape. The profiler knew that if they tried breaking out, it would only result in things getting worse—for them, for Reid or Hotch or Morgan, for Katie.

"Most of them are mean," Maria said, coming closer as she moved out of her corner.

"How so?"

"We're locked in here most of the day," Beth began. "Sometimes they let us out to do chores or something, but mostly we're stuck here.

"If we try to talk too much, or run, or even crack the door open sometimes, they hit us," Carrie added.

"They nearly killed Elisha," Beth continued. "They wouldn't give her medicine—not _real_ medicine, anyway—and when she got too feverish they wanted to throw her in the lake."

"It was freezing," Elisha chimed softly. She was nearly asleep.

"That man, Spencer, he tried to get them to give her medicine," said Carrie.

"Didn't let 'em throw me in th' lake," added Elisha. "Walked me in."

"He did that?" Emily was surprised—it wasn't like Reid to do something he thought would hurt a person.

"Didn't give 'im choice," the girl mumbled. "Tol' 'im he had t' take me in there, else they'd throw me 'n." The next sounds Emily heard from the girl were patterned breaths. She was asleep.

"That one guy, Patrick," Carrie said, nearly spitting the name as if it were molten lead, "he's horrible. Likes to tease and hurt us, when he can."

"Tells us we're never going home," said Maria. "That we're gonna get 'paired off' with most of the men here…"

Emily tried to force down the bile that raged against her throat.

"Has he tried…"

"No, ma'am. Though he'd like to, I think. Keeps complaining about what the Campb—Katie, I mean, did to him. I think she did something to him, all those years ago." Carrie looked hopeful. "Maybe she'll do it again…"

"He likes hurting Spencer," Beth said. "We're not supposed to know, but he can't help himself," she whispered conspiratorially. "He crows about what he plans to do to him next. It's like he thinks Spencer's going to take his place here or something."

"What has he done to Spencer?" Emily asked, finding it odd that this was the first time she'd ever really used her colleague's given name.

"Hits him a lot. I think he whipped him too, the day he had to take Elisha into the lake."

"Then they put him in the stocks— _all day_ ," Carrie added. "That Patrick dumped a bucket of water over his head, when he hadn't been given any for hours, and then hit him with something. One of the younger Kites was mad 'cause he'd been doing that. Cam, I think his name is."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"He's okay. Follows the same book as the rest of them here, but he tries to leave us alone and doesn't hurt us. He gets mad when Patrick tries being a jerk." Beth's eyes began to close, the events of the day getting to her.

 _Great,_ Emily thought as the girls began to settle in. _Stuck in the middle of Deliverance-ville and the only hope we have of getting out is a young man who might or might not follow the Kite line of thinking. What else could go wrong?_

Just then the door to the building creaked open. Emily's eyes moved instantly towards the person coming inside.


	16. Chapter 16

"Get _off_ me, you son of a bitch!"

The figure coming through the door fell hard onto the ground as it was shoved violently into the cell. There was a metallic clink that rattled in Emily's ears, and she immediately saw the source of the noise—a long chain that bound the figure's ankles together.

"Not much fight in you now, eh, Campbell?" a mocking voice jeered. "Maybe _this_ time you'll learn your place. Might even have some fun with you…"

"Maybe." Katie's face softened, and the _come-hither_ look she gave could have swayed Gandhi into laying siege. Curling a finger, she beckoned her tormentor closer. "I've got time…"

 _Is she crazy?_ Emily thought.

Just as Patrick Kite thought he'd hit the lottery, he was soon mistaken. The second he leaned overtop the prone woman, she used her chained legs to hit the man squarely in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could catch his breath, she had wrapped the chain that bound her ankles around Patrick's neck.

"Give me a reason," she taunted. "Any one will do…"

"Get…off…" Patrick choked, his scream tempered by the pressure on his voice box.

Seconds later, a shower of blows rained on top of Katie as several Kites swooped in to rescue their kinsman. Though she put up a hell of a fight, she was no match for seven men, all with free range of their limbs.

Another metallic sound assaulted Emily's ears—this time it was the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Looking around, she found the barrel of one pointed straight at her.

"Give it up, Miss Campbell, or your friend here bites it. Your choice."

"You wouldn't kill a woman. Too hard to come by." Katie's grip on Patrick's neck tightened, even as his brothers and nephews continued to beat her.

"Very well. Maybe I'll take a walk down to the other end, have some target practice on those men you came with. They're of no use here…"

"Maybe so. But we're all dead, though, aren't we?" Katie countered. "Either you'll shoot us, or work us to death, or leave us to starve."

"Last chance, woman," the man with the shotgun snapped. "Let him up or I start shooting. You might have a death wish, but I wouldn't guarantee your friends have the same idea."

"Go to hell!" The blows continued to rain on her, fast and sure. A few of them were hitting Patrick—and in places he really didn't want to be hit.

A shot rang out, and then another.

* * *

"The hell was that?"

Another shot fired, and then a scream.

Everyone in the small shack looked at each other. Even Reid, who was barely awake, had his eyes wide open.

Not one to wait, Morgan strode over to the door and began pounding on it. "Hey!" he called out. "What's going on? Who's hurt?"

"Never mind," one of the Kites called back. "Back to sleep."

"You expect me to sleep when someone might be hurt? You're crazier than I think, you think that…"

"Then we're crazy. Now shut up. Everyone's fine."

"Sounded close," Hotch called back. "How can you be sure?"

"Sent someone over to check. Now shut up in there, or I'll have the one shootin' pay you lot a visit."

Pounding once on the solid door, Morgan returned to his spot on the earthern floor. He stared over at Reid, who had immediately fallen back asleep.

"Jesus…what's with him? How can he possibly sleep after that?"

"Well," said Hotch thoughtfully, "Consider how we found him."

"Yeah, locked up in those stocks. What about it?"

"Takes a lot to be able to balance on that contraption, I'd guess. Even for someone as slight as Reid."

"Okay, but still…"

"Also, his hands."

Morgan picked one of his colleague's hands up gently, so as not to wake him. "They're like sandpaper," he concluded. "Like he washed them too much. Maybe they had him wash something?"

"More likely he had to wash a _lot_ of something. You see any washers around here?"

"Whoa," Morgan said, realizing what Hotch was getting at. "By hand?"

"Yeah. I don't think it was just dishes though…"

"Wow. But wait--look at his feet, Hotch."

The older agent squinted against the dark to see what Morgan was getting at. Tracing a finger across the soles of Reid's feet, he found what his colleague was talking about—there were deep scratches and some cuts along the dust-covered skin.

 _Good thing Reid's not ticklish,_ Hotch thought. He would've hated to wake him up—it seemed to him that Reid had gotten almost no sleep in the almost four days he'd been kept in this nightmare.

"Reid, what have you been up to?" he murmured softly.

Just then there was a sharp rap on the door. "Everything's fine," one of their guards called out. "Nothing to worry about. One of the girls got feisty, that's all."

Neither agent liked the sound of that.

* * *

By the time morning came the only people who had actually slept were Reid and the four little girls. Everyone else was dealing with short sleep due to pain, worry, or wonder at what would happen next.

Emily and Katie woke to the smell of bacon shoved underneath their noses. A piece of toast and a single egg accompanied it.

"Hurry up and eat," said the man who had shot at them the night before. "Had things my way, I'd let you starve, but you're to be put to work today, so get on with it."

Between bites, Katie glared at her warden. "And just what are we supposed to do, exactly?"

"In time. Eat now—set a good example," the man said, throwing a glance over at the girls, who had shoved their plates away. Another man, much younger than his counterpart, was trying to get the girls to eat.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You don't want to get sick again, do you?"

Elisha's face turned green at the sight of the food. Holding a hand to her mouth, she raced into a corner and threw up.

"I'm not hungry," Carrie said listlessly.

"Me either," said Beth.

Maria nibbled a little on the toast.

"I give up, Keith," said the young man. "They want to starve, let 'em."

"Listen here," Keith snapped, turning to face the girls. "You'll eat, or I'll shove it down your throat. Understand?"

Emily looked at the girls. Then she looked at Katie. Both women knew what had to be done.

Silently, Emily was able to catch Carrie's attention. She mouthed the words 'go ahead, eat' to her as clearly as she could. When Carrie looked to Katie for advice, the younger woman merely nodded in agreement.

Slowly, Carrie bit into her egg. Soon Beth broke off a piece of bacon and stuck it in her mouth. Elisha washed out her mouth with some water that had been brought.

"See? Wasn't so hard, was it?" Keith crooned. "Now hurry up—you're wanted in the kitchen."

"Except you," he said, turning back to glare at Katie. "You, there's a special chore waiting for…"

* * *

Breakfast was a subdued affair for the remaining three agents. Though their meal also consisted of toast, eggs and bacon, the three men ate in relative silence. Reid was just glad that it wasn't Patrick who brought the food in—he didn't miss being woken up with a sharp kick in the side and being constantly hurried while he ate.

"The man's an absolute nightmare," Reid told his colleagues. "An overblown ego coupled with a raging narcissistic complex. If I had to guess, he was clearly the favorite of the family, and was spoiled to the point of ruination."

"There is nothing about these people that doesn't scream 'messed up,'" Morgan retorted.

"Not like this guy," Reid insisted. "I really think he sees me as some sort of threat to his…his _standing_ , if you will, in this society."

"But why?" Hotch wondered. "It's not like you asked to be brought here, or came of your own accord, like us…"

"Who knows? Maybe he's just one of those types that likes to have someone to pick on, and that someone's me—for the moment, anyway."

Before anyone could comment on that, one of the guards standing outside—a man called Mark—collected the plates while his counterparts kept the agents in their seats at rifle point.

"Come on now," Mark said, motioning the three to get up. "Time to go to work."

Reid's eyes rolled involuntarily. He could see the pile of linen already…


	17. Chapter 17

It was the day from hell.

After their hurried breakfast, Emily and the girls were marched into the long kitchen building. Before them stood a mountain of dishes and a large tub of hot water.

"Well, don't just look at them," snapped the woman called Grace. Pointing her finger at Beth and Maria, she said "You two, wash. Any spots, they get thrown back at you, and what doesn't break you wash again—clear?"

Resignedly, the girls trudged over to the tub and began washing.

"You, the short one," Grace continued, pointing at Carrie. "Take that other bucket and start scrubbing the floors. _By hand._ Try anything funny, and you know where you'll end up."

Emily looked around, gaping. The floor was about the size of a dance hall—and a twelve-year old girl was supposed to clean it herself?

"I'll do it," said Emily flatly, taking the bucket from Carrie's tiny hands.

"Mark me, miss," Grace leveled. "You'll do as you're told, or one of those friends of yours will pay for it. Along with you."

 _What the woman_ _ **really**_ _needs is a good kick in the ass,_ Emily thought angrily as she relinquished the bucket. Carrie took the large cloth and began scrubbing the giant floor, one section at a time.

Grace turned to Elisha, who was meekly trying to become one with the kitchen wall. "You fetch that bag of potatoes and clean them—the whole lot, understand?"

Elisha looked around the room for the bag in question, but could not find one. "What bag, ma'am?" she asked.

The question earned the girl a slap in the head. "Stupid girl—are you blind?!" the older woman shouted as she hauled out a bag that could have doubled as a hot-air balloon. "Now clean," she said, giving Elisha a small potato peeler. "And before you get any ideas, that point is as dull as a spoon," Grace called out.

Staring at Emily, Grace finally asked, "You cook?"

 _Cook? Me? Are you kidding?!_ "No, can't say I do," Emily said.

"Well, you'll learn. There's chickens to be fixed in the other room—start plucking them, and I'll cut them later."

_Plucking?_

As she was led into the tiny, windowless room, Emily saw something that only would have occurred in her nightmares—the bodies of no less than twelve chickens, all headless and waiting to be completely plucked.

"And make sure you get all of those feathers," Grace snapped. "Even one, and the boys tend to get ornery…"

 _Oh, like they aren't already?_ Emily thought. Her first instinct was to tell the woman where to shove her chickens and make a run for it, but though there were no guards watching her or the girls, there were plenty watching over Katie and her colleagues.

Heaving a sigh, Emily picked up a floppy chicken carcass and began removing the feathers, slowly but surely. _Maybe when I hit sixty I'll finally be done,_ she thought. _Hopefully the others are getting a better lay of the place than I am, and are thinking on a way to get the hell out of here…_

* * *

It was a hell of a day.

After their breakfast, Hotch and Morgan were unceremoniously frog-marched up the hillside and into a section of the woods—a part that had gone unexplored by them on their way into this miserable country. As soon as they crested the large hill, the sight that awaited them was enough to make Morgan's jaw drop to the ground.

There were no less than ten men waiting, all dressed in plaid or flannel, and all armed with both shotguns and long cross-cut saws. Several sawhorses were standing idly, waiting for a log to sit on their backs.

"Hope you slept well, gentlemen," said the man they knew only as the Elder Kite. "Plenty of firewood needing to be chopped and sawed down today—like as not this is gonna be one of the last nice days of the season.

Morgan looked at Hotch, who, true to form, looked like the stone statue that refused to be read. He silently hoped his superior was thinking of a way out of this mess—it had been some while since Morgan himself had been in a woods of any sort (the hunting case in Oregon had been his last trip), and as for a saw…

"Well, don't just stand there," came another voice, hauling one of the large cross-cut saws towards a nearby tree. "There's a bunch of logs over there that need cutting down to size—you two go and haul them over to those horses and make a pile."

As they were 'walked,' Morgan leaned in toward his superior. "Tell me something—why, if they're afraid of us escaping, would they have us working near at least a half-dozen potential weapons we could use against them?" His eyes flickered toward several long-handled axes, the sawblades, and a couple of what appeared to be spikes and sledgehammers.

"Maybe they think we don't know how to handle them," Hotch mused.

"They'd be right—except for the sledge and the axe," Morgan said. "I gotta tell you, I've never actually cut down a tree before…"

The two stopped as they were shoved in front of a giant woodpile. The 'logs' were nearly the size they were, both tall and around.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Pick one up and haul it back." The man, who had been called Keith, stood impatiently.

Morgan looked at Hotch. Hotch looked at Morgan. Then they looked at the five people standing around them carrying shotguns.

Heaving a sigh, the two agents picked up their first log and started their way down the hillside.

 _At least we don't have to walk uphill with this thing,_ Morgan thought to himself. _Hopefully Reid's having better luck than we are on the whole 'finding an escape route' plan…_

* * *

It was a hell of a day, and it was getting worse.

Reid hadn't even gotten the chance to finish his toast before he was dragged out of the shack he'd been thrown in the night before. He turned his back to see Hotch and Morgan forced up the hillside.

 _Maybe they can get a better idea on how to get out of here,_ he thought. _Looks like I'm back to doing eight hundred pounds of laundry…_

However, it surprised him to find that his guard was taking him to the barn. Inside, the young man called Cam was waiting for him.

"It'll just be a second," he said, nodding at the guard, who took his place outside with the rifle. "Waiting on someone else…"

Nervously, Reid stood where he was put. The last time he'd been in here, he'd gotten a beating for his trouble—and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

"You got a name?" Cam asked.

 _Finally, someone cares that I have a name,_ Reid thought, the sarcasm flowing like butter in his mind. Aloud, he replied, "It's Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"Ever cleaned a barn, Spencer?"

Reid looked around at the piles of hay and the few cows and other assorted livestock that made their home in the gigantic structure. He mentally tried to calculate just how long it would take to clean such a place by himself.

"Ah, no," he replied, feeling oddly at ease with this particular Kite. "Can't say that I have."

Before either one could follow up, there was a loud series of protests that trickled through the door.

"Quit shoving me, asshole! I can _walk_ just fine."

"Shut the hell up, woman. You're as much a pain-in-the-ass as you were when you were twelve."

"Now, that'd be the pot calling the kettle black." Under her breath, Reid could just barely make out the word "jackass" that escaped Katie Campbell's lips.

"What was that?" Patrick Kite pulled her next to him by the hair.

"Come closer—I think I can still see the chain marks around your neck…"

" _Bitch!_ " Patrick screamed, viciously backhanding Katie. The young woman tried to keep her balance, but she couldn't put enough space between her legs to compensate for the force of the blow. Consequently, she fell backward into a vile-smelling pad of hay.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, picking herself up and brushing off the dirt and hay shards that littered her shirt. "Seems quaint that you folks have to chain a girl up to keep her from running. What, the traps not quite working out for you anymore?"

"Cam, she's _your_ problem," Patrick snapped. To Katie he called back, "Mark my words, Campbell—you keep it up and you'll pay for it!"

"Already am, asshole," she replied.

Throwing both Katie and Reid a look that could have made them spontaneously combust where they stood, Patrick stormed out of the barn and towards the hillside.

Both prisoners stood as Cam merely picked up a large rake. "He'll get over it," he said matter-of-factly.

"Over what?" Reid asked. Katie had eyed the door, but like everywhere else, there were guards standing outside of it just waiting for her to try and escape. Reid noticed the long chain that connected her ankles together, allowing her to walk but not much else.

"He wanted to be the one overseeing you two today. It was just one of those days he didn't get his way. Tough."

Taking a shovel in his hands, Reid held it as Katie brushed a pile of soiled hay into it, as if it were an oversized dustpan. _Good thing, then,_ he thought to himself as the three began the long task of cleaning out the filthy barn.

* * *

Five heads stared blearily into their dinner plates.

Morgan looked as if he wanted to fall fast asleep where he sat, his head dangerously close to becoming on with the mashed potatoes on his plate.

Reid absentmindedly picked at his beans, imagining they were oversized pieces of hay he had to clean up after.

Hotch's eyes drooped, even though he was starving. He hurt so much he could barely lift the wooden fork he'd been given to eat with.

Emily never wanted to see another chicken again. Her fingers were red and swollen from not only plucking a dozen of the little birds clean, but then having to peel them into chunks after they'd been boiled. She kept hearing that Grace woman mocking her— _"Can't be letting you around the sharp objects, now can we?_ " over and over again.

Katie's face was buried inside her plate. Bits of potato covered her face, as did chicken gravy, pieces of green and yellow beans and a slice of bread with butter.

"Where are the girls?" someone asked. Emily couldn't even tell who was talking to her, but she knew it was one of the guys.

"Back in that cage they call a 'building'," she said in a low tone. "They don't let them out of sight, not for a second."

"Don't let any of us out of sight, you notice?" The voice was Morgan's.

"Uh-huh," chimed Reid, still picking at his plate.

"What? You lot not hungry? Come on now, Gracie made that special…"

Katie picked up her head out of the plate and glared at the voice. "Shut the hell up and leave us alone, Patrick Kite," she snapped. Had she not had potato and green beans dangling from her hair, she would have looked deadly serious.

"Or what?" the young man sneered.

"Or I strangle you with this chain again. And this time I'll have help." She let her eyes wander across the four agents who were sitting with her, all looking like they could easily murder the young man where he stood—if only there wasn't someone with a shotgun nearby.

Chagrined, Patrick left, and Katie picked up her own fork, albeit slowly.

"I'm not sure if there's a clinical term for him, but where I come from that there is the example of a grade-A…"

"Asshole," the five exhausted diners said at once.

"Oh, you've heard of that one then," Katie said, a ghost of a smile brightening up her somber face. "Who else had to put up with him today?"

"Wouldn't stop trying to shove me down the hill, with a log the size of God in my hands no less," snapped Morgan. "I swear, I nearly killed him more than once—and paid for it."

"He's more than just a classic narcissist," Hotch concurred. "His ego's been so inflated he literally thinks he's invincible."

"Has a superiority complex, too," Reid added. "He seems to enjoy tormenting those he finds to be 'inferior' to him—and right now, that's us."

"Could've clocked the little bastard myself today, after he slogs through on the floor poor Carrie's had to clean for hours with mud from here to hell," Emily seethed. Her colleagues could tell she was more than a little upset by the number of times she swore in the last six sentences. "When Carrie tried to ask him not to do that, he just laughed and told her she'd have to 'get used to cleaning up after him.'"

"See? What'd I tell you?" Katie said, depositing a fork full of potato into her mouth.

Before long, there were more catcalls for people to finish eating, and the five exhausted captives slowly stood up to place their plates on the table.

"And where you lot think you're going?" Grace called out.

"To bed," snapped Emily, and four voices concurred with her.

"Hardly. Who do you think's cleaning up here?"

Everyone looked at everyone else, and then all five looked collectively towards the door. Once again, there were no less than three guards lying in wait for them to try something bold.

"I'm about ready to just let them shoot me," said Katie before slowly starting towards the pile of dishes.


	18. Chapter 18

By the time everyone finally finished cleaning and were allowed to sleep, they had fallen where they stood in the kitchen building. Reid and Katie had curled up near the large kitchen fire, their hands red from the hours of dish scrubbing they had endured. Emily lay nearby, not caring that she'd fallen into a puddle of soapy water that she'd had to use to clean the floor area near the cupboards in the back. Morgan and Hotch had slumped over onto two of the large tables they'd had to move along the walls of the giant dining room.

There was a patter of feet, and small hands placed a blanket on top of each sleeping figure.

"Should we wake them up?" a small voice asked.

"I don't think they could _move_ , even if we did," said another.

"But everyone's asleep now…we could try…"

"Try what?" Emily mumbled, stirring from her sound sleep.

"Miss Emily!" said the voices, excited but hushed. Blinking her eyes to try to get the sleep and soap suds out of them, she was surprised to see Carrie and Elisha standing over her. As she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, she could feel the thin blanket that had been draped over her shoulders.

"We thought you could use them," Carrie said, a small smile crossing her face. She tipped her head over towards Reid and Katie, who were covered in a similar fashion.

"How did you…"

"Get in here?" Elisha said timidly. "Carrie unlocked the door…"

"I have small hands," the girl said proudly.

"And then we snuck over here," Elisha finished. "Everyone's asleep—there's no one outside."

 _Probably worked too much today,_ Emily thought. "Where's Beth and Maria?"

"Waiting on us." Carrie stood up and held out her hand for Emily to take. "Let's go!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—go _where_?" Though she had a pretty good idea of where Carrie meant to go, Emily needed to have a second to really wake herself up. The hours of labor really were taking a toll on her.

"Home," the girl replied simply.

 _I was afraid of that._ "Girls…"

Suddenly Emily was faced with two pairs of pleading eyes, set firmly inside small faces that were stained with tear-tracks and dirt. She stood for a moment, trying to run an escape plan through her head.

"Let's get everyone up first," she said finally, slowly heading over to wake the two men snoring on top of the tables.

Waking Katie wasn't much of a problem—"I don't sleep much anyway," she'd said groggily as the girls roused her—but waking Reid was a little harder. Even with Elisha and Carrie trying to shake him awake, he still slept on.

"I bet he's _really_ tired," Carrie said finally. Looking up at Katie, she explained: "He didn't get to sleep much since he's been here. He got woken up a few times before, and then when we fell into the pit…"

"So you've tried leaving before?"

"Lots of times. Those stupid traps…!" Carrie trailed as she tried once again to rouse the sleeping agent.

"Elisha, put some water in that bucket," Katie said. The girl complied, bringing over the pail with freezing cold water out of the pump. Taking it into her own tired hands, Katie unceremoniously dumped it over the sleeping figure next to her.

"Hey! What the…!"

"And good morning to you too, Agent Reid. Come on, we're about to blow this popsicle stand," said Katie simply as the girls helped get him off the floor.

"And just how do you plan to do that?" came another voice through the doorway to the back. It was Morgan's, with both Hotch and Emily close behind.

"Well, let's start with what we know about the place."

"It's surrounded," Carrie interjected.

"There's traps and other things out there to hurt us," chimed Elisha.

"There's like twenty people who can wake up on a moment's notice," mused Morgan, having taken count when he'd been led into the kitchen for dinner.

"Likely more," said Katie. "They don't all eat at the same time. But I don't think you're far off."

The fire still crackled, its low heat giving some warmth to the small room. Its drying effects were working wonders on Reid, who now had to dry out from the soaking Katie had given him.

"Fire," the woman murmured, staring into the hearth.

"What about it?" asked Hotch.

"We're in the middle of a woods," said Reid. "If we can get part of it to catch on fire, it could cause enough of a distraction to allow us to escape."

"Okay," said Morgan, following the train of thought. "But for how long? I mean, like we just said, there's over twenty people out there—how many would it take to put out a small fire?"

"What if it wasn't small?" suggested Emily. "What if it was large enough to keep everyone busy for awhile?"

"Then again, how long is awhile?" countered Hotch. "Fire as a distraction is one thing, but it might spiral out of control—and then we'd have a bigger problem."

"He's right," chimed Katie. "There's parts of those woods that _don't_ have traps laid in them--finding them, however, is the trick. We'd have to navigate the traps _and_ run like hell to make the perimeter; already a three-day trip without the added incentive to hurry…"

"Is there really a choice?" Morgan asked. "I mean, we can't stay _here_ …" Looking at his colleagues, he explained his reasoning: "Guys, there's _no one_ going to come through that crap to save us!"

"Save Rossi and JJ, maybe, but you're right," Hotch concurred. "We're on our own in this one."

"And we're running out of time," Katie said suddenly, though to no one in particular. Her eyes had floated back to the hearth, taking in the images of the flames flickering in the dark room.

"What?" The voice belonged to Hotch.

"It's…well…" the woman began, words failing her.

"Spit it out," demanded Morgan.

"Knowing the Kites, I kinda thought this might happen," Katie said. "This time, though, I made sure that there wasn't gonna be a repeat performance of what happened before." Looking at Hotch, Emily and Morgan, she said, "Remember my friend that drove us out here?"

The three agents nodded.

"Well, he's more than a friend, if you catch me. And he's also working with the DNR on this one—and believe me, there is nothing more powerful in this state than the DNR in autumn. _Nothing_."

"So..?"

"Ever hear of a controlled burn?"

"It's a method of creating natural fire breaks in dense wooded areas. They're made by intentionally burning parts of a forest so that, should a catastrophic fire actually take hold in a large woods, the fire will have nothing to feed on and eventually contain itself," Reid said, sounding like he'd read up before being brought out to this miserable spot.

"He's right," Katie said. "And guess where they plan to burn in the next couple of days?"

"You're not serious?" cried Morgan.

"Deathly," said Katie. "Let's face it folks—setting our own fire is our one chance. We are literally running out of time before we have to deal with the possibility of facing a larger one."

"They wouldn't set a fire where they know there's people," countered Emily. "They wouldn't."

"Ma'am, everyone in this area knows the story. Everyone knows the Kites don't give back those they stole. And they're tired of dealing with the Kites, so who's to say they don't just tell the DNR that there's no one in here?"

"The girls…their families…" Emily argued.

"Girls would be considered dead before long, unrecoverable," said Katie simply. "I don't like it either, but they told me about this in the truck on the way over here. Furthermore, I can't say I blame them any. So we need to find a way to set a fire, or create a flood, or _something_ to distract these crazy people long enough to get a good head start."

"The fuel tanks outside," said Elisha, who had been listening the whole time. "There's oil tanks just outside this building, way in the back. We're not allowed to go there, but I saw them once."

Katie looked at the four agents. "Anyone here a hell of a shot? 'Cause we're only going to get one chance to make this work…"


	19. Chapter 19

Before anyone could even move, a voice floated in from the dining hall.

"Well now…where oh where could everyone be? And so late?"

Katie cursed under her breath. Everyone in the back remained perfectly still, not willing to move a muscle.

 _Come closer, asshole,_ thought Morgan, who was still seething over his treatment the day previous. _No one around to save you now…_

Katie stared intently at the length of chain bound around her ankles. _Knowing him, he's got a key,_ she mused. _Probably wants to try and 'play' a little…either with me or with Miss Emily here…_

Carrie and Elisha wedged themselves between Hotch and Reid, shuddering at the sound that lived to torment them.

Hotch began mentally running through every exit out of the kitchen building, knowing that they'd need to escape quickly once the plan was set in motion.

Reid sat on his heels, trying to put on the bravest face he could. Of everyone in the room, he had had far too much of Patrick Kite's torment and ire, and he was not about to let the man belittle or abuse him one more time. He looked over at Katie, who suddenly tore her eyes from the chain across her lower limbs and looked at Reid. Soundlessly, she mouthed the words "get him in here" to the young agent.

"What?" Reid asked, also soundlessly.

Katie raised her eyebrows. _Do it. Trust me._

Confused, Reid looked at Hotch, who had caught on to the young woman's plan. He tipped his head, the usual fraction of an inch.

Silently shrugging his shoulders in a confused _here-goes-nothing_ look, Reid called out. "What do you want?"

"Hmm. What do I want? There's a sound question," Patrick trilled, completely pleased with himself. "Lots of things. For starters, I'd like to know why the indentured help isn't where it belongs."

A few faces darkened at the term 'indentured help.' There was another word for it; one everyone in the room knew all too well.

"We…we fell asleep," Reid called out, not daring to move from the front of the fire. The plan was beginning to become clear to Reid the more he talked, and he watched as Morgan inched his way out of sight behind a tall freestanding cupboard.

"You were told you could sleep? I don't remember anyone saying that…"

"That woman, Grace…"

"Mmm. Well, she should have called to have you put away, in any case. Can't have people wandering about."

"Like you?"

"Things are different for me," Patrick crowed. He couldn't help himself. Seven faces grimaced at the thought of that.

"I…I've noticed."

"And well you should. Learn to respect your betters."

Katie's eyes rolled, and Reid knew it took every fiber of her being not to fire off a retort of her own.

"Could I ask you a question?"

Patrick's voice crept closer. "If you must," he said patronizingly.

"What did I ever do to you?"

Now everyone was curious. He could feel Hotch and Emily's eyes furrow in confusion, and Reid was certain Morgan's expression had changed about three times in the last five seconds.

"What did I ever do to you?" he reiterated. "Your own people dragged me here, against my will, and from the moment I was dumped in that miserable shack you've done nothing but torment and humiliate me. You've taken every opportunity you can to prove your superiority over me, and I can't help but wonder if it's because you think your relatives see you as less than they are."

"Shut up," Patrick snapped. "They do not."

"I mean, let's face it, even your younger…what is it, cousin? brother? nephew? seems to get more respect than you do. It makes me wonder about how the hierarchy system really works around here…"

Both Katie's eyes and Hotch's eyes were the size of dinner plates, but each pair was saying something completely different. Hotch's were warning Reid to tread carefully, while Katie's begged Reid to drive home the fatal blow to the spoiled Kite's ego.

"I said, shut the hell up!" Patrick shouted, racing towards the fireplace. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Morgan stepped out form behind him and easily took the arrogant young man down in one fell swoop.

"Now who's the 'indentured help,' eh?" he said, a satisfied smile beginning to crawl across his face.

"Let go of me," Patrick warned. "Let go of me, or so help me…"

"What?" Emily snapped. "You'll come after us? Hardly."

Carrie dove towards the man's pockets, fishing for something. After a minute, she produced a small key.

"Here," she said, tossing it to Katie. "Maybe it'll fit!"

Catching the key in midair, Katie quickly made short work of the locks.

"Not bad, Carrie," she said warmly. "Thanks." Turning to the squirming, seething Kite that lay trapped under Morgan's grip, she said, "What do you think we should do with him, Agent Reid?"

Reid's eyes took in the discarded length of chain and the small room Emily had covered in chicken feathers the previous afternoon. The room had a solid wooden door that opened towards the outside.

"What's in there?" he asked thoughtfully.

"A table, two chairs, and a pile of feathers," said Emily without thinking. "Don't ask," she said as her colleagues looked at her strangely.

"Well," he said, looking straight into Patrick's glaring eyes, "I've got an idea…"

* * *

The Kites awoke to a single gunshot blast that echoed through the night.

"What the hell?" cried Keith as he shot to his door first. The sight he took in was enough to send him running.

"Mark! Patrick! Will! The kitchen's on fire!"

Coming out of a larger building, the Elder Kite looked at two of his young nephews, Brian and Cam. "Get over there and see that those outsiders are where they're supposed to be," he ordered. Looking at several others who were just waking up, he called out, "Everyone get buckets and someone get that old hose working! If those woods catch fire, we're done for! And find out if anyone's in there! I'm not having those outsiders manage to kill themselves—or those girls!"

In the midst of all the commotion, no one noticed seven figures creeping away from the growing fireball and stealing away into the night. Two of the larger ones managed to collect the last of the little girls and the party once again made their way into the vast wilderness that lay in wait.


	20. Chapter 20

The fire raged, feeding like a hungry child who had missed a week's worth of dinner. Even with the help of an old fire hose and a large bucket brigade, the oil crackled merrily as it began to consume the first few walls of the kitchen.

"Hurry up with that water!" the Elder Kite shouted, dragging the old hose as close to the source of the flames as he could get. Shouting over to his brother Mark, he called out, "Anyone in there?"

Mark had gone in, holding a damp cloth over his mouth. "Not that I could--wait! Hear that?"

The entire camp fell silent, straining to hear what Mark had heard. Only the sound of burning wood and crackling fire came close to their ears. Then suddenly, very softly, they could hear it--a muffled scream.

"It's in the back!" someone called out.

"Get in there!" called the Elder. "Not losing anyone on account of this!"

Mark and Keith went in, braving the heat and flames as they looked to find the source of the scream. Outside the water began to pour on top of the fire, which only began to spread out farther.

"Come on, come on," Keith muttered, searching the smoke-filled room in vain. "Where are you?!" he shouted, hoping the source fo the scream would call back.

The question was answered by a series of loud _thumps_ that connected with a wall. More muffled screams accompanied it.

"In the back, in the spare room," Keith said. He and Mark made a beeline for the door, which had been held shut by a shelving unit being shoved in front of it.

"Now how in the…"

Another muffled scream pierced the air, followed by the encroaching sounds of flames lapping closer.

It took a minute to remove the barricade from the door, and once it was opened the two Kites saw a sight they never expected. It was their youngest brother, bound in a length of chain and gagged with his own flannel shirt. He had been covered with grease and chicken feathers, making him look like a walking man-bird of sorts.

"Come on!" Mark said, grabbing Patrick's arm. The three men hastily made their way outside, Mark carrying Patrick as he'd had his ankles bound together with the chain. Once outside, they quickly ungagged him, letting loose a tirade of curses.

"Bastards!" Patrick screamed. Looking at his brothers, he stared wide eyed at the size of the fire that had threatened to consume him. "Son of a bitch!" he cried.

"Yeah, it's big, and looks like an oil fire…we'll have to contain it…"

"Not that!" Patrick yelled. "It's them! _They're getting away!_ "

* * *

Nine people raced as fast as they could through the dark wilderness, trying to put as much distance between them and the fire Hotch had started as possible. Reid wished he could have taken Patrick's shoes, but the man had such oddly-shaped feet that his shoes were too big for the girls and too small for the rest of them. As it was, Reid knew he'd stepped on something prickly or sharp about half a dozen times, but even though his feet ached and he was dangerously close to falling asleep, he knew he had to keep running.

Next to him, Elisha did her best to try and keep him focused and awake. "Come on," she said, still moving slowly as a result of getting over her illness. "We have to go…"

Ahead, Katie and Morgan began working through the nests of knotted brush with a pair of long-handled axes—the ones the Kites had left at the timber site earlier that day. It wasn't smooth or clean like a machete strike, but there was no time to mourn the tool's loss.

Carrie kept her eyes on the ground, searching for more spikes or other signs of a trap. She'd managed to help them avoid several smooth bear traps (much to Hotch's relief) and intentionally set off a couple of pitfalls that could have trapped the party once again.

"Not falling into one of those again," she said flatly. The other girls seconded her.

"How does that fire look?" Katie called out, having a little trouble with a stubborn vine.

Emily peered over the ridgeline. "Looks like their trying to contain it," she said. "It's not growing anymore, but it's burning as high as ever."

"Oil fires have to be contained," said Reid, trying his best to keep himself awake. "Throwing water on them only spreads it."

"And there's no sand around here," said Katie, letting out a cry of satisfaction as she finally severed the stubborn vegetation she'd been fighting with.

"Let's move," said Morgan, collecting Maria from where she stood and carrying the half-asleep girl further through the woods.

* * *

In the dark, a lone figure followed the fleeing party closely, keeping a sizeable distance between himself and the group. He knew what would happen eventually—and he planned to determine the outcome when it did.

* * *

Several rope traps, five prickly branches, two pitfalls and a net snare later, the group came across a wide river bed.

"Come on!" Carrie said, leaving the sheltering treeline and taking steps towards the rushing water.

"Carrie--the current," Reid warned. "You'll get swept away…"

"No…it's not that bad…" the girl countered, looking at the fast-moving water. "Is it?"

"Looks deep," said Emily, who had some experience in fording a river. "Probably seven feet at its widest—way too deep to think about crossing by ourselves. The current will sweep us right back to where we started."

At that, Carrie backed away from the cool water. "No, thanks," she said flatly.

"Then how do we get across?" cried Beth.

"You don't," growled a low voice—one that did not belong to anyone on the riverbank.


	21. Chapter 21

"Thought I might find you here," the voice chuckled. It was a sound that struck fear into the hearts of the four young girls. "Thought you'd done with me, eh?" he said, looking straight at Reid, who was trying to put on his bravest face. Considering the lack of sleep and the pain he was already in, it was becoming harder for the young agent to pull off by the second.

"Jesus Christ!" Katie spat, now completely frustrated. "It's like a sadistic Energizer bunny--just keeps coming back to torture us more."

"I don't expect this lot to understand, Campbell," Patrick Kite hissed, waving a hand nonchalantly at the rest of the group, "but I expect _you_ to understand…"

"Understand what? That you're some sort of overgrown bully who enjoys torturing anyone he can to make himself feel important?"

"Hardly. No, Campbell—here's the truth of it, plain and simple: we're the Kites."

"So?" countered Morgan, now well-and-truly pissed with this pathetic excuse for a human being.

"So, it means something around here." He motioned the group away from the riverbank with the barrel of the rifle held firmly in his grasp. "We Kites have a reputation to uphold—the stories, you know."

"You'd really kill us all just to keep that going?" Emily asked, as evenly as she could. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Oh, I would. Be a shame to lose such a valuable woman, though. I might make exception," Patrick cooed, inching closer to Emily with every step. "Then again, those four would need to stay too," he said, considering each of the young girls as if they were chattel coming off a barge. "That little one there, she'd be perfect for one of the younger nephews…" Patrick's eyes stared straight at Elisha, who cowered behind Reid.

"Leave her alone," the young agent said, mustering up his own courage.

"Don't you people get it?" he shouted, waving the rifle like an extension of his arm. " _You're not leaving._ Not now, not _ever!"_

Suddenly, a shot rang out into the night. Patrick wobbled on his feet a little, and then looked down at his chest. A blossom of red began blooming out of a suspicious looking hole in his shirt. He turned to see where it might have come from, but before he could complete the circle, he collapsed onto the ground. His eyes, though pale and beautiful, were two blank polished stones, devoid of any expression.

"Someone will have heard that," came a voice out of the woods. "Best you lot get moving, before they come running."

"How?" called Hotch, stealing a look at the rushing river.

"Walk south about a half-mile—there should be a footbridge still there. Be careful, though. It's likely not in the best condition."

The voice seemed familiar, at least to two of the party standing on the riverbank. Katie stared into the treeline, and a shimmer of silver danced off a lock of dark hair. The figure retreated into the trees, its footsteps becoming softer with the distance.

"Let's go," she said to the group, who wasted no time following the directions they'd been given. "Hopefully that fire's raging out of control by now…"

As they left the corpse of Patrick Kite behind, Katie murmured something only Reid picked up on as they made their way to the dilapidated bridge.

"Godspeed, Cameron Kite. And good luck."

* * *

The fire was out of control. The water merely spread the flames farther into the encampment, and the Kite's efforts to contain the blaze were being hampered by the proximity of fresh wood to feed it, in the form of the outbuildings and shacks nearby. Each flame danced over whatever available source of fuel it had, eager to consume the next morsel.

"Thomas!" cried Mark. "The whole place is going up! There's nothing for it!"

Casting a look, Thomas Kite begrudgingly had to agree. "Everyone down the road, and get out of here! he shouted to his brothers and nephews.

"What about those girls? And those people the Campbell girl…"

"What about 'em?" said Thomas flatly. "They go up in flames, so much the better for us."

No one noticed that there were two Kites missing in the party as they bolted for the access road. As soon as the last Kite left, the metal pole that towered in the center became engulfed in flames, and a faint shimmer radiated off of it—just as it had some fifteen years before.

* * *

The bridge was nearly a ruin. Parts of the stone structure had sunken into the water, while others jutted out like sharp spikes that threatened to pierce them in several places.

"Come on," said Morgan, braving the structure first. Even with bare feet, he managed to find the right footholds that would get them across. Near the middle, there was a space that was a reach, even for him.

Maria followed close behind, still half-asleep but eager to finally go home. "Wait," she called out over the sound of the rushing water. "I can't reach!"

Behind her, Hotch picked the girl up and reached over towards the waiting Morgan, who caught her and set her gently down on the other side. They did the same with all of the girls, who were simply too short to make the distance. Carrie had offered to jump across, but the sharp rock fragments would have severely cut her feet had she tried.

"Now you, Miss Emily," said Katie, still looking out for more Kites to try and stop them. Without hesitation, Emily picked her way across the stones. Some of the rocks were sinking as they treaded on them, and the water was making a few of them a bit slick.

"Whoa," she cried out, nearly tumbling headfirst into the water. Only a lucky save by Morgan and Hotch on either end kept her from becoming swept into the strong current.

Finally there were only two left—Reid and Katie.

"Come on, Agent Reid," said Katie. "You first."

Part of Reid wanted to argue that point, but the larger part said 'get the hell out of here, and fast.' He gingerly worked his way over the slick stones, managing to breach the distance that had hampered the girls earlier.

"Good thing you're tall," Morgan murmured as Reid easily crossed the wide span of open water.

Katie began making her way across, taking Hotch's hand to help get her over the sinking stones. Many of them were now just barely underneath the water, making it difficult to concentrate on where to put her foot and plot the next step at the same time.

"It's all right," said Hotch, noticing the young woman was taking her time crossing. "We've got time."

"No, Agent Hotchner, we don't. The fire, remember?"

At the mention of that, six faces looked toward the sky. The column of black smoke was rising higher with every second.

Pressed, Katie stick her foot onto a smaller rock—one that had algae of some sort covering it. The green substance was slick, and the pressure of her foot bucked against the slop of the rock.

Hotch reached out and grabbed Katie in mid-fall, hoping to set the woman upright again. She was too far gone. With a splash, two bodies began struggling against the rushing current that threatened to carry them back to the specter of Kite Country.

 


	22. Chapter 22

"Hotch!"

"Katie!"

The words drowned within the rush of flowing water that swept the two upstream, threatening to pull them under. The freezing temperature of the river was tempered only by a patch of sunlight that peeked through a sky of darkening clouds and a tall column of smoke.

 _Come on, Katie,_ the young woman thought, finally getting over the shock of the ice-cold water that threatened to pull her under. _Turn upright, deep breaths, one hand in front of the other, and kick._

Katie managed to pull her head out from the vicious current, gasping at the air like a fish that had flopped onto a ship's deck. Through the water in her eyes she could see shapes moving parallel to her—tall black trees, scraggly rock formations, wide stretches of brown earth that looked as though it had been carved away by the liquid knife that looked to send her back to the place she was trying to escape.

"Over here!' she called out, her first words since she'd fallen in. Katie desperately hoped someone had heard her scream over the roar of the crashing waves against the small boulders in the water that were worn smooth with time.

A call cried out above her, but she couldn't make out where it came from. Katie struggled against the grip of the current as she tried to swim towards the bank of the river. There were long willow branches that dangled overhead, draped just this side of close to the young woman's reach.

 _Catch hold of something, Katie_ , she heard a voice say into her ear. _Hang on…_

The current shoved her down the river, fast and sure, a prize that had been captured and was being sent back to the masters of this wild kingdom. Katie knew she had to stay close to the edge of the river, even though the steep sides that sprung up around her towered like parallel walls threatening to block her in.

 _Come on, Katie girl,_ the familiar voice said again. _Reach out and grab on…keep your head above the water…don't let it take you back there, not ever, you understand?_

Katie reached out and felt something solid pass near her fingers. She grabbed hold and tried to pull herself out of the water as much as possible, but the sheer face of the earthen wall was too steep for her to simply crawl out of the river.

"Over here!" she called out, hoping this time she could be heard over the rush of the water. The waves crashing over the obstacles in the river formed their own cacophony of sounds that filled her ears with white noise and the feeling of cotton that was stuffed in too tightly. Katie hoped that one of the others would find her and bring her up. She silently feared that her rescuers would be those who wished to keep her in this miserable place, a prisoner for all time.

 _I can't let them take me,_ she thought to herself as the thick vine she was clinging to cut into her palms. _I won't let him down…I can't have let him die for nothing…_

Shivering against the cold water that pounded against her, she cried out again, hoping one of the agents could hear her. Katie knew the plan was first and foremost to get those little girls to safety, but a part of her hoped that they would come back to help her.

 _I can't save myself,_ she thought. _Not this time…_

 _Yes, you can,_ the familiar voice said to her. _Just hang on…they haven't forgotten you…nor have I._

 _I don't know how much longer I can hold on,_ she argued to herself.

_Just a little more…_

Suddenly something brushed against her skin, and Katie looked up. A long, thick vine fell near her face and wriggled.

"Grab on," a voice called out. Katie recognized it as Emily's.

Heaving a huge breath, Katie released the vine she was holding and grabbed onto the one that would pull her to safety. By the time she reached the top of the earthen wall, she was coughing water out of her system and drinking in gulps of air. She was soaked to the bone and was shivering from the sudden shock of cold air that hit her drenched skin and clothes.

"Hey, hey—look at me," said another voice, and a pair of hands pulled her the rest of the way up. "You all right?"

"Where's Agent Hotchner?" she gasped.

"Over here," the voice said. "We caught up to him quicker; the current didn't carry him as far."

"He's all right?"

"Yeah," said the voice again, and Katie looked up to see Morgan looking at her with a discerning look. "See for yourself."

Katie looked past the man to see a small group huddled near a large willow tree. Sitting against it was Hotch—soaked, worn out, but in good condition and very much alive.

"Thank God for small miracles," Katie said, shakily pushing herself to her feet.

"Tell me about it," Morgan said, leaning in to help steady the young woman. "That smoke column's gotten lighter, but we're trying to figure out if that's because the fire's gone out or because we're getting farther away from it."

"I don't think it'll be a problem much longer," said Reid, looking over the sky as if he were trying to find a particular volume to peruse.

"No, it won't," seconded Katie, now seated against the tree that supported Hotch. "I can smell the river from up here. It's going to storm, bad—and soon."

As Katie settled herself near the tree for a moment, she swore she could hear the voice that had talked her through the ordeal in the water.

 _Thanks, Pop,_ she thought, smiling to herself.


	23. Chapter 23

No sooner had the words escaped Katie's lips than the raindrops began to pour down on top of the bedraggled group. A large thunderhead split open with a deafening crack, startling Elisha and Beth so much that they dove behind the tree that Hotch and Katie were leaning on.

"What was that?" Carrie said in a small voice.

"Come on," said Emily, remembering a trick she'd learned form her grandfather. "See that stand of pine trees over there?"

The girls nodded, gingerly pulling themselves out of their temporary hiding places.

"Go over there and find a spot that's not too wet, okay? The pine branches should be overlapped enough that the rain won't come in easily." Emily smiled at the four worn-out faces that desperately needed a good long sleep. "When you do, send one back to lead the rest of us there, all right?"

"What if they're out there?" Maria asked, nervously looking around. The girls were all afraid of the possibility that even one of the Kites was still lurking about, waiting for them to let their guard down for even the briefest fraction of a second.

"Then we'll scream at the top of our lungs, Maria," Carrie answered before Emily could instruct the girls otherwise. "There's miles of woods, and only about twenty of them…"

"And that fire _was_ pretty big," Beth mused to herself.

Elisha didn't say anything. Mustering up the last bit of strength she had, she walked determinedly over towards the thick grove of pines that would become her home for the night.

"Wait for me!" cried Carrie, scampering off after Elisha. "You shouldn't go by yourself!" Moments later, Maria and Beth followed.

Turning to look at her compatriots, Emily knelt down next to where Hotch and Katie were seated. "Let's see them," she said, waving her hands near their bare feet.

Wordlessly, Katie lifted them up out of the mud and tried her best to wipe them clean. After sticking them in the rain for a second, she allowed the older woman to inspect them.

"Not bad," Emily murmured. "Careful, though—you've got a nasty scrape on the bottom of your foot there," she added, gently tracing her fingers across a sore spot on the ball of Katie's right foot.

"Must have been from falling in the water," Katie reasoned.

Emily inspected Hotch's feet too, though she felt rather awkward about fussing over her superior in that fashion. What made it even more awkward was Hotch's insistence that he was fine.

"We shouldn't let the girls get too far ahead," he reasoned. "Maria's got a point—those Kites might well be out here, looking for us."

Katie pushed herself up from the tree base, looking as determined as Elisha had earlier. "I'll find them," she said, taking exactly six steps before she fell flat on her face.

"You all right?" a voice said, leaning in to help her up.

"I'm surprised you can lift me, Agent Reid," Katie said, a half-smile crossing her face. "I'm not exactly little…not like those girls are…"

"I get that a lot," Reid said, allowing himself a chuckle. It was the first time he'd so much as thought about laughing in nearly a week. "I'm skinny, not helpless."

"Kid, helpless you are most certainly not," Morgan said, trying hard to suppress a grin of his own by shaking his head. He and Emily were holding Hotch upright, as he'd had some nasty encounters with the boulders in the rapids earlier.

"He gonna make it?" Katie asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine," Hotch again insisted. "Just a little banged up is all…"

"You know, I bet you people say that a lot," Katie mused, half to herself.

The five adults began slowly making their way towards the pine grove when they heard a shrill shriek emanating from the thick of it.

"Oh, hell," Morgan spat, dropping Hotch's side as he raced towards the source of the terrifying sound. Emily started to go as well, but she knew she couldn't leave a man behind.

"We'll get him," Reid said, taking the position that Morgan had left. Katie limped over to take up Emily's.

"You shouldn't…"

"The girls, Miss Emily," Katie said flatly. Emily got the implication, fast. Seconds later, she too was racing for the pine grove.

"Only hope to God it's not the Kites," Katie said as the three remaining adults slowly made their way to the thick cover of white pine trees. "Otherwise we're gonna have to go back in there…"

The river raced below them, taking in the pouring rain that doused every inch of the wilderness that engulfed them.


	24. Chapter 24

Hotch crept closer to the spot where the girls were standing, putting one determined foot in front of the other as Reid and Katie helped him stay upright. "What is it?" he called out to his colleagues, who were studying something at a distance.

"It's okay, Hotch—just spooked the girls a bit," Morgan reassured him. Stepping aside, the agent revealed what had been found—fragmented remains of a body that had been left behind. From the looks of the bone age and coloration, the skeleton had been resting there for quite some time.

Leaning Hotch against a nearby tree, Katie stepped over towards the remains. Unlike the bone shards that they'd come across nearly three days ago, this one had bits of cloth that still lingered across the limbs in places, and around what would have been the neck was a silver chain with a large teardrop prism pendant.

Picking up the pendant, Katie ran the small object through her fingers for a long while. "I'm sure I've seen this somewhere," she murmured to herself.

"Is…is that going to be us?" Beth whispered, clearly rattled at the discovery.

"No, honey, it's not," Emily reassured her. "We'll get out of here. I promise."

"She's right," seconded Reid. "We're already farther than most people have gotten, so it's just a matter of time before we reach the edge of this place." A silent look passed over Reid's face, clearly asking his comrades the question he didn't dare ask in front of the shaken girls: _is this the only one, or are there more?_

Katie settled down near a tree, taking time to give the remains the space it deserved. A sad, satisfied smile washed over her face.

"Come here," she said, motioning the girls to take a seat next to her. "Let me tell you another part of the story."

Intrigued, Carrie, Elisha, Beth and Maria settled in next to her. The rain pounded down overhead, but eh thick pine boughs acted as a perfect rain roof over the weary group's heads. The bed of pine needles that they sat on were as dry as the bones they sat across from. With the torrential rain and the pitch-black sky blocking any light, the rest of the group took a seat as well, keeping one eye focused on spotting Kites.

"You all know the story about Sarah Campbell, right?" Katie began.

"Yeah," said Carrie. "Parts of it."

"She got snatched just after she had her baby," Beth recalled. "She was the first woman the Kites stole, I think."

"Maybe not the _first_ , but definitely the first one to be missed by her family," Katie corrected. "My Pop told me the story a million times if he told it once. It was during the first week of March—the snow was starting to melt away, but it was still cold. Sarah had decided to go out for a walk to town, which was only a half-mile away from her house. Her husband thought nothing of it, as the walk was one she'd made dozens of times."

"But not that time," Maria chimed gently.

"No. Not that time. Took twelve hours for Sean Campbell to realize something was wrong—it was like her to spend several hours at a friend's house or to amble through the town for a while. Once he realized no one she knew in town had seen her, he called up the state police."

"Why state?" Emily asked?

"No regular police force, ma'am," Katie explained. "There's a sheriff in town, but at the time the sheriff was a man with a one-track mind, if you follow me."

The four agents tried to make the leap. Katie could see their minds working to spit out the information she was trying to tell them.

"He let that go?" Morgan said finally, realizing what was being said.

"Didn't have much use for the 'regular folk,' did John Charles—that I can vouch for personally."

"Then how did he…" Reid began, cluelessness swimming in his large hazel eyes.

"Oh, probably because his older brother was the mayor in town at the time. Sheriff here's an appointed position, not an elected one. Had the credentials, and it was all about 'spoils.'" Katie grimaced, her face twisting into one of disgust. "The man you spoke to, Tom, he was a deputy on the force at the time, and a good friend to half the county. Old John kinda… _had_ to give Tom the job, on that account alone. That, and no one wanted it to look like favoritism was being played."

"Really." That was Morgan—straight to the point.

"Yep."

"But they never found her," Carrie piped up. "Sarah Campbell, I mean."

"That's true. They never did. Her husband spent years trying to figure it out, and finally he did, that night he challenged Thomas Kite at the bar."

"Then you got snatched," said Beth.

"Yep."

"And they were mean to you," added Maria.

"Many times over."

"But we know all this already," cried Reid.

"This is true, Agent Reid," Katie said, the calm narrator-like quality never leaving her voice.

"So what's different?" Emily asked.

"This," Katie said off-handedly. Settling deeper into the base of the tree, she caught everyone's attention as she began to add to the story.

"On the night Thomas Kite captured my father, he subjected him to taunts and horrors that could well rival those you might have seen," she started, looking each agent straight in the eye. "I can tell this part, because he made me watch. Said it was a 'lesson' to me that the Kites were the reigning authority in this place, and that as their 'property' I would learn my position in it.

"One of the first things Thomas Kite did was to retell the story of my mother's disappearance, from the other end of the tale." Katie paused. Hotch could tell that she was looking for the words to continue, and the right words to not set her crying as she did.

"Thomas Kite told my father that Sarah had put up a hell of a fight. He and his sons had set upon her as they were coming back from a round of drinking, and that his son Mark had been taken with her. They pulled up to the edge of the road, ahead of where she was walking, and before she could even scream they had gotten hold of her and tossed her in the back of their truck.

"'She struggled,' he'd said, 'and it made her all the more attractive to my boys.' They took her back to Kite Country, and put her up in that shack—the one you girls were in, I think—and, of course, took her shoes. Within five minutes Sarah tried to run, shoeless and all, back to the edge where they'd found her. It was because of my mother that the traps were laid, and the sentry fortified on the access road," Katie said almost apologetically.

"Go on," said Hotch, now more intrigued. He knew, deep down, that something had triggered this tale, and he meant to hear it finished.

Katie hesitated. Her eyes cast about, as if she were afraid someone would step out of the shadows and stop her from telling this part.

"When Thomas Kite began beating my father, he told him about how he'd made my mother 'lie' with each of his sons, and that she'd fought each one hard. Thomas crowed about that, knowing that the description of his wife being abused in that way would kill my father, a little at a time. What he boasted about most was when he described taking my mother for himself--locking her in a tiny shack for days, bound hand and foot, giving her only a mouthful of water so that she wouldn't die.

"'I meant to break her, and I did,'" he'd gloated. "Not for long, but I did."

Katie's voice hitched. She remembered the conversation as clear as day, remembering that she herself had begun a similar experience just before Sean Campbell opened the door to rescue her. The four agents studied her closely, looking for signs that might give up what was obviously a closely guarded part of the story.

"What happened?" Reid asked.

"What do you think?" Katie asked softly. "He took her."

Even the little girls fell silent at the mention of that.

"Nothing came of it," Katie added suddenly. "Thomas didn't get the prize he was hoping for. My mother…she kept running. Kept fighting them. Nothing was going to stop her from going home to her husband—and her little girl."

Katie stared over at the pile of bones that lay nearby. "The morning she disappeared, my father gave Sarah a necklace. There was a picture of it that sat on the mantle—the last picture my mother ever took."

Hotch's eyes followed Katie's gaze down towards her hands, where she fingered the slight chain that held the crystal teardrop.

"Your mother's necklace," he said finally.

Katie stared off at the spot where she'd picked it up. "He said he'd 'put her out,'" she remarked quietly. "He'd maimed her, and left her deep in the woods just to die. And now I've found her."

Nine pairs of eyes were drawn to the Kite's first victim. The rain began to subside, and the night sky took hold over the darkened forest.

"Get some sleep," Hotch advised. "We'll head out first thing in the morning."


	25. Chapter 25

No one slept much that night.

Elisha had cried out from a nightmare, and once she was woken by Emily, the girl refused to go back to sleep.

"It's not okay," the girl sobbed, shaking her head. "There was a pile of clothes to wash, and then I was in that lake, freezing, with nothing on, and then that guy Patrick was watching me, telling me I had to 'come out and play'…" A fresh wave of soft sobs wracked the girl's thin frame.

Nearby, a pack of coyotes howled and yelped, talking with another pack further out.

"What was that?" Maria gasped, being startled awake from her fitful sleep. "Is it going to hurt us?"

"No," Emily reassured her. "Coyotes don't hurt people—not if they can avoid it." The woman was thankful she'd paid attention to her grandfather so many years ago about wildlife. Paying attention to her young colleague during one of his random 'lectures' hadn't hurt, either.

"Oh. Okay." With that, Maria settled her head back down and drifted off again.

"We're going to get out of here, right, Miss Emily?" Elisha asked timidly. The girl stole a glance at the grave of Sarah Campbell, which Katie, Morgan and Reid had taken the time to bury properly. "We're not gonna end up like that…?"

Privately, Emily had her doubts. To Elisha, she said, "I'd say we've got the best chance of anyone. There's more of us to help each other, plus we've got our very own guide out of here."

Elisha looked over at Katie, who was twitching in her sleep. "I wonder how she did it," she murmured.

 _I do too,_ Emily thought.

* * *

A few feet away, Katie's twitches turned more violent. "Stop," she mumbled, her hands pushing against some unseen force. "No. I won't. Let us go…"

Her twitches turned into full-fledged flailing, her arms and legs now desperate to push her away from the attacker in her dream. "Leave me alone!" she cried out, loud enough to be heard. She thrashed about on the ground, connecting a heavy fist with Reid's back.

"Ow!" the young agent yelped, now startled awake. "What the…?"

Katie still fought on, squirming and shoving her 'attacker' away.

Gingerly, Reid extended his hand out to touch her. "Hey, Katie," he said. "Wake up…"

The woman's eyes opened on a dime. They were as wide as dinner plates.

"Oh, God," she said, panting to catch her breath. "What happened?"

"You were having a nightmare," Reid said gently. "Pretty bad, too, from the looks of it."

Slowly, Katie pushed herself up against a tree. She took a moment to shake the sleep from her system. "I…" she began, looking as if what she had to say were a bit embarrassing. "I thought that bastard Patrick was trying to 'play' with me again," she finally admitted.

"Again?"

"Yeah." Katie motioned Reid to come closer, so she could tell the story without waking the others. She threw a glance over at Elisha and Emily, who had finally drifted off into a light slumber. "Before—the first time I was brought here, I was put in a shack next to the one we found the girls in. The small one on the right."

Reid nodded. "I know the one."

"Anyway, the Kites then had me trussed up like a turkey—hands, feet, you name it. One of the boys—I later learned it was Patrick—had taken a liking to me, and begged his father to let him 'have' me. Since Thomas Kite was interested in heaping as much misery on the Campbells as possible, he agreed to the idea."

Reid thought a moment on that. He could remember being told that someone 'wanted' him for a purpose too, and not only in the Michigan woods. A part of his mind wandered back to a certain shack in the middle of an abandoned plantation…

"Little bastard started right away, and kept at it. After a day, he vowed he would 'get some play' out of me or I'd suffer for it. By the time Pop showed up, I was beginning to think I'd never see the outside of that shack again."

"Did you try and run?" Reid asked, remembering his encounter with the doors in Kite Country.

"Never really got the chance. Kites got wise after my mother—kept their 'prizes' tied down or chained up for a while, just to break them of the idea. My wrists were scraped raw from the leather straps Patrick used to keep me in place. I fought, though, and when I kicked him that one time, it was enough to, well, change his views on things." A small smile crept over the young woman's face as she remembered the incident.

"No wonder he was upset," Reid rationalized. "He'd lost the one thing that made him a 'man' in this society…"

"No loss, I tell you."

"No, I don't expect it was."

"Heard you over there, moaning on a couple of times. Something about 'not wanting it,' whatever that means."

Reid's eyes fixed on the bed of pine needles the group was sleeping on. "Ahh," he said, a little sheepish.

"It's okay—you don't have to tell me," Katie said. "I imagine you lot see worse than the crazy Kites and a treacherous forest on a daily basis."

Reid merely nodded, but added, "This is definitely one of our most challenging cases, I have to admit."

"Definitely one of mine, too," Katie seconded. "Oddly enough, I became a PI in Boston. Go figure, huh?"

The two shared a chuckle, and Katie nonchalantly scanned the area for things that shouldn't be anywhere near them. "I think the Kites have probably abandoned the site by now," she mused. "That fire your boss started…it was pretty decent-sized, and an oil fire to boot…"

"Let's hope so," said Reid. "That rain should have put it out—the sheer volume of rain…there'd be nowhere for the fire to spread that wasn't wet already…"

"You need sand to smother an oil fire," Katie countered.

"Or a lack of fuel, which, given the waterlogged state of the trees, woud have happened after the storm."

"Good point."

The two began talking on other things, letting the time slip by as they slowly drifted back into a restless sleep.

* * *

_Crunch…crunch…snap…_

The sudden sound startled Carrie from her sleep. Terrified, she looked around, her voice threatening to call out if someone came near.

Aside from the eight other people sleeping nearby, there was nothing. The sky was still black, and the stars began to twinkle like diamond chips set in a sea of onyx.

 _It's a dream,_ the girl chided herself. _No one's coming to take you away…_

_SNAP…shik..shik…crunch…_

Carrie's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "Someone…" she whispered, afraid to raise her voice. The thought of a Kite taking her back to that hellhole petrified the shaking twelve-year old.

_Snick…snick…crunch…mmmph…_

The last sound came out as a breath forced out of a nose. Carrie held her breath, her eyes looking for the source of the sound.

"Katie?" she called out timidly, her voice barely a squeak. "Miss Emily? Spencer?"

Suddenly the crunching footsteps grew closer, and another chuff echoed near the space where the party slept.

Mustering up her courage, Carrie stood up slowly, ready to fight off another Kite if she had to.

What passed by was a sight to behold. It was a stag, a beautiful eight-point that held its head high as it crossed near the pine grove towards the river. Behind it was another deer, with no horns— _a doe,_ Carrie realized—and together the two creatures leapt forward towards the area they themselves were so desperate to leave behind.

Carrie stared on into the trees long after the deer had left. _Maybe it's a sign,_ she rationalized. _Everything's going to be all right…_

Settling down next to Katie, who had slumped into the base of the tree, the girl fell back to sleep with a small smile on her face.

* * *

The next morning, seven faces woke up ready to continue the trek out of Kite Country. Two more faces, however, refused to get up.

"Come on, Morgan, wake up," Reid said, trying his best to wake his friend. The older man swatted away the intruding hand as he slept on, mumbling "all right, all right, I'm going…"

"Morgan. Wake up. Time to go home," Emily said, having had slightly better luck rousing her superior. Hotch had gotten up mumbling about hauling logs, but a splash of cold water from the swollen river had brought him about.

"Here," Katie said, hauling the sleeping Morgan up to his feet. "Agent Reid, if you'd help me?"

"What're you doing?" Reid asked.

"Waking your friend up. Come on."

No sooner had Reid gotten underneath Morgan's shoulder did Katie begin leading them to the edge of the river, towards a walkoff that allowed easy access. There, she lowered Morgan's face towards the water and began splashing cold water into it.

"What the…hey!" Morgan sputtered. "I'm up, I'm up, what the hell?"

"And good morning to you too, Agent Morgan," Katie said, a mischievous smile firmly planted on her face. "Sleep well?"

"Ugh…" Morgan groaned. "Not at all. Kept dreaming I was carrying logs downhill, one after the other, and then every unsub I've ever helped catch was shoving me back up the hill for another one."

"And I thought _I_ had bad dreams…" Katie worked hard to stifle a short chuckle.

"Come on," Carrie called out. "There's a path or something up ahead…I think…"

After a few minutes, the five adults followed the excited voices of the four girls, hoping that there was in fact a quicker way out of this nightmarish place—and one hopefully not on a collision course with the Kites.


	26. Chapter 26

As they walked, Carrie began to notice a low rumbling in her stomach. Sharp pangs followed, at times even taking the girl's breath away.

"What's wrong?" Beth asked.

"I'm starving," Carrie replied.

Beth looked at the hundreds of ferns that surrounded them, and the trees that surrounded the ferns. "There's nothing here."

"Let's wait for the others," Elisha suggested, looking a little spooked. Every so often her eyes darted into the underbrush, as if a Kite—or worse—would crop out of the growth and seize her. "Maybe they'll know where to find something to tide you over…"

* * *

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm starving."

Emily looked at her two colleagues, both of whom hadn't been able to keep food off their minds for the last hour or so. The girls were still just ahead, within shouting distance, and the party knew that they had to keep moving.

"Fire might be out, but that don't mean the Kites are gone for good," Katie had reasoned. "Like as not they're coming back…"

However, once they caught up to the girls, they discovered that Reid and Morgan's sudden obsession with food wasn't limited to just the two agents.

"I'm starving," Carrie said plaintively.

"I'm hungry too," Maria added.

Hotch looked at the small gaggle of people he was responsible for. Though his agents could—and had—gone longer without eating, the girls were a different matter. And it _had_ been nearly two days since they'd all practically fallen asleep in their dinner plates…

"Reid, come on," Morgan said, half-mocking, half-serious. "You're telling me that in all the random information you've got locked up in there"—Morgan pointed to the younger man's head—"you can't tell me what I can possibly eat in the middle of the woods?"

"I don't know everything, Morgan, even though you think I do," snapped Reid, whose stomach began violently protesting its lack of sustenance. "I actually remember telling you the same thing a few years ago…"

Just ahead of the squabbling agents, Hotch looked at Emily and Katie. "He's got a point," the superior agent said softly.

"What's that?" Katie asked.

"He _did_ tell him that before." Though exhausted and sore, Hotch tried to smile a little, if only to alleviate the thick tension for the girls.

Katie looked over across the river. The water still moved swiftly in its bed, but the crossing became shallower the farther they walked. A few yards ahead, she spotted something that caught her eye.

"Wait here," she said, and before anyone could get a word in edgewise the young woman plunged her feet into the freezing cold water, doggedly walking against the current and the rocks in the riverbed to reach her destination.

"What is she doing?" Maria asked, staring at Katie intently.

"I have _no_ idea," Morgan said, putting a hand on top of Maria's shoulder. He too stared at the woman in front of him, kneeling down near a large clump of cattails. Katie systematically broke them apart near their base, collecting as many as she could find. Once her arm was full of the long greenish-white stems, she gingerly picked her way back to the other bank where everyone was waiting.

"Here," she said, handing the lot over to Morgan. "Take these and shell them—you're looking for what's on the inside." Katie took one herself and began stripping it to get to the middle, which produced an almost cucumber-green substance. Without hesitation, she popped the bit into her mouth and began chewing.

Eight pairs of eyes looked at her. Morgan's eyes looked at the dozen or so stalks in his hand, then back up at her.

Emily took one and mimicked Katie's actions. "It's like cucumber," she declared, a smile on her face.

The thought of eating vegetables—especially vegetables he'd never heard of before—put Reid off a bit. However, there didn't seem to be anything else…

"Not bad," he concurred, rolling the bit of cattail tuber in his mouth. "Little starchy."

Soon everyone was shelling cattails and eating. It was far from enough, but the bit of starch would tide the party over until they could get to civilization—or at least find something a little more filling.

"Too bad it's autumn," said Katie. "A friend of mine would go morel hunting, and showed me how to find them, but they're all gone now…"

"Mushrooms?" Reid asked. "You would eat mushrooms?"

"Do all the time. Why?"

A slightly green feeling washed over the young agent at the thought, and it wasn't from the cattail he'd just eaten.

Emily studied the river for a minute, her eyes trying to discern something.

"What's up?" Hotch asked her.

"Wondering about this river," she said. "Looks clean enough to drink, but I'm not familiar with it…"

Again, all heads spun towards Katie. "Don't look at me—first time here in fifteen years, remember?"

Emily stared at the water a little longer. She could see clear to the bottom of the riverbed, despite the strong current. Carefully, she knelt down and drew a sip to her mouth.

"Tastes fine to me," she said.

Elisha ambled over and followed Emily's actions; slowly at first, then more and more greedily as she tried to hydrate herself. The fourteen-year old felt as though she hadn't been given water in days. Soon the entire party took a drink from the river, relishing its coolness on top of a dry tongue.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Emily said as the party continued onward. "I think I saw wild strawberry plants. Might be a few left."

"And look for a tree with what look like black raspberries on it," Katie added. "Those are mulberries—little bitter, but much like a blackberry."

"How do…" Carrie began, but Beth shushed her.

"Who cares?" the girl said, answering the silenced question. "I'm just glad they do!"

* * *

The trodden path the party took began to widen; low ferns covered what might have been at one time a set of tire tracks.

"Was there another road out of here at one time?" Hotch wondered aloud.

"Maybe," Katie replied. "Would have been long before me, though."

Hotch privately agreed. The tire tracks were so faded that it was impossible that any machine had used them in quite some time.

"Look at that," Emily said, stopping near a rusted-out metallic hulk that lay off to the side.

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Morgan said, shaking his head. "Tell me they didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Reid queried. To the young agent, it was merely the remains of an old car, nothing more.

" _This_ was a classic," Morgan said, brushing his hands along the round shattered headlights and badly dulled chrome grill. "What a waste."

"It's a car, Morgan. It doesn't even work."

"Still…"

"Look, up there," Beth said excitedly. Her outstretched finger pointed towards a dilapidated wooden building. The roof still held, and two of the walls, but very little else remained. "Can we stop there? Please?"

Hotch thought of the danger the Kites posed, should they come looking for them. However, though he wanted to put on the 'brave face' he and his teammates were used to pulling on in tight situations, he had to admit that he himself was exhausted from twelve hours of solid walking and the little sleep he'd gotten in the last three days. The darkening sky helped make the decision for him.

"We'll have to stop here for the night," he said finally.

* * *

Katie stared out at the endless night sky. Millions of stars began to twinkle underneath the passing cloud cover. Behind her, soft snores rose up from the floor of the old building.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked, settling down next to her.

"Miss Emily," Katie said quietly, smiling. "What keeps you up?"

"Y'know, I've been wondering a few things…" she began. "For starters, why is it you call me that?"

"You mean because you too are a seasoned federal agent, just like your colleagues?"

"Yeah."

"I know what you're thinking, and don't. Around here, using the term "Miss" with a woman's first name isn't diminutive—it's actually showing respect."

"I don't follow…"

"Older women know more than the young. You're not that old, but you're older than me, and you're important, an authority figure. The girls notice that, and so they call you 'Miss Emily.' Me, I'm just Katie. Always have been, always will be. It's strange, but that's how it works. If the girls didn't like or respect you, they'd call you much worse."

"Aha. I see…I think."

Katie settled further into the soft sandy grass. "As for what I think is your other question, I'm not sure. Those tire tracks are ancient, but I think there's been not a lot of traps because of the natural impediments—the river, the broken bridge—plus they Kites probably forgot about this part of the woods. Most of their traps are nearest the easier access points to the highway…"

"Like the spot where we came in," Emily realized.

"Yup. Out here, it might take longer than three days to get back. I don't know—this is all new to me, too."

 _Well, that doesn't sound good,_ Emily thought to herself.

"Anyway, who taught you about the woods?" Katie asked. "You don't seem like an outdoors kind of person, if you don't mind my saying…"

A short chuckle escaped Emily's lips, and soon the two women were talking quietly about their limited but useful experiences in the wilderness. Every so often, a snore would break their talk, and the two looked over at the seven sleeping figures that were oblivious to the rest of the world around them.

* * *

Behind a nearby tree, two figures patiently waited. The fire was out, there was months of rebuilding and other work to be done—and they had no intention of losing more 'property' to these brazen intruders. A third figure crept close to the other two, and together they waited for the right moment to attack.


	27. Chapter 27

As the night drew on, the two women finally began to feel the need for a little shut-eye. Emily watched as Katie fell into a fitful sleep, curled up in the tall grass.

 _Easy to forget there are crazy people after us in this place,_ the older woman thought, looking out into the deep shadows that gave the dark surroundings some depth. _I wonder what this place was before the likes of the Kites showed up…_

Emily laid back in the grass, her eyes staring upward at the night sky. She remembered the countless nights she had done this very thing on a mountain in the French Alps, the warm glow of her grandfather's cabin always a safe distance nearby.

 _Focus, Em,_ she thought as her mind began to drift into sleep. _This isn't the remote part of France—it's the northern part of Michigan, where people are liable to come out of the shadows…_

Just as Emily's eyes began to close, a rough hand clasped over her mouth. Her eyelids flew open, and a scream was stifled in her throat.

"Not a sound, woman," a rough voice snapped. "There's a rifle trained at your head, you understand?"

Lying motionless, Emily carefully nodded. There was a rustle of leaves near her, and a sharp _snap_ of a dry twig being stepped on.

"You're going to get up, very slowly, and come with us," the voice demanded.

The clouds had blotted out all traces of star- and moonlight, making it nearly impossible for Emily to see her attackers. She thought of Katie, lying quietly nearby, and hoped she could make enough noise to alert her. _If we can get those girls to safety, it'll be worth it,_ Emily reasoned.

"Now, get up."

Her eyes searching frantically for the rifle, Emily cautiously stood up, trying to make the sounds of her rising as loud as she could. There had been a small pile of dead leaves near her left hand, and she smashed her palm into them as hard as she could, trying to amplify the sound of the leaves rubbing together.

"Now, walk slowly towards the sound of my voice," the leader of the small party demanded. A small metallic _click_ sounded near Emily's ear, signaling the promised rifle that waited near her head.

Emily took slow, cautious steps; she tried to step on as many leaves and twigs as possible. _Hopefully they've missed the girls—and the others,_ the agent thought, silently grateful that Reid, Hotch and Morgan had thought to cover themselves and the girls in leaves and swatches of grass that had been lying around. She dared not look toward the dilapidated building, for fear her assailants would discover the rest of her team.

"Now, real quietly—where's that girl?"

"What girl?" Emily kept her voice low, so as not to entice these people to shoot her—or at anyone else.

"You know the one. Campbell." A sharp exhale sounded from the voice's nose. "Where is she?"

"I—I don't know…"

"Bullshit. You know where she is. You were talking with her earlier."

Emily inhaled sharply. _How long have they been watching us?_

"It's only a matter of time. We'll find her—her and those little girls." Emily balked as one of her assailants grabbed her wrist, pulling her arms behind her back. Something was wound around them—a thick piece of leather, perhaps—and tightly secured.

"I'll only ask this once more— _where is she?_ "

Stubbornly, Emily remained silent. She wasn't giving up anyone.

"Right here," said another voice, making Emily's interrogator spin on his heel. Moments later, the man went flying backward into the darkness, bringing a shout from the now-wounded leader and a series of clicks from the rifle.

"Stay back!" the rifleman shouted, not caring who he woke. "Stay back, or I'll shoot her!"

"Really?" a third voice crooned. It was one Emily knew well. Within seconds, the rifle was snatched out of its owner's hands and leveled at him. "Move a muscle, and this goes right through you."

The third assailant, terrified, turned on his heel and ran. He was used to being on the winning side of things—he was a Kite, after all—but this wasn't anything like the countless times before.

"We have to get him," said a fourth voice, lilting but determined. Emily could make out a strange angular shape running awkwardly at top speed towards the fleeing Kite. A smaller figure followed close behind, even overtaking the taller form.

"Well now," said the welcome voice of her superior, who expertly held the rifle. "Seems we're ahead in this game for once."

"Seems like," came the strong, steady voice of her friend and colleague, who was pinning the leader down into the dirt. A pair of hands helped bind each Kite's hands behind their back, and the two were hoisted off the ground.

"Are the girls up?" Emily asked as she was released form her bonds.

"They are now, Miss Emily," a thin voice said. It was Elisha. "What do we do now?"

"We're going to use what we have to get out of here quicker," said Hotch evenly. "No offense, Katie…"

"None taken, Agent Hotchner. I'd just as soon let the locals guide us back to civilization."

"Me too," cried out the lilting voice Emily had heard ramble on about countless useless bits of information. Shoving the runaway in front of him, he replied, "I've had just about all I want out of this place, and the people who live in it."

"Me too," cried Carrie, who had gone with Reid to help him catch the Kite.

"No time like the present, eh?" Katie said, striding over to the leader of the Kite group. "Now, you're gonna take us out of here, or that guy"—she said, motioning her head over to where Hotch stood with the rifle—"is gonna prove just how good a marksman he is. And he's pretty good—you did see the nice work he made of your oil tanks, I gather?"

" _Son of a bitch!_ " the leader snapped. "Years of work, generations of tradition, and then _you_ had to show up."

"Just like a bad penny, I guess," Katie crooned. "Maybe next time you Kites will learn to get women the right way—'cause this whole 'kidnap' thing just isn't working for you…"

The leader mumbled curses under his breath as he was forced forward down the path that lay ahead. _At least the Elder got away,_ he thought. _No sense in losing the whole clan if we don't have to…_


	28. Chapter 28

The perimeter around the vast swatch of land the Kites had held for generations was swarming with activity. Dozens of fleeing Kites managed to make their way out of the dense forest and into the waiting hands of authorities. With each Kite caught, the smile on the old sheriff's face grew a little more.

"Oh, lord, but if Sean Campbell could see this," Tom said as his men managed to lay their hands on another young Kite. "The end of an era has finally come…"

The tall smoke plume was wavering in the distance. The torrential rains had done a number on the oil fire, but crews were just now making their way inside the compound to smother the remains of the blaze. Nearby, two plainclothed agents took stock of what their colleagues had seen over the course of a week.

"My God," Rossi murmured. "If it hadn't been for the fire, these folks woud've _never_ had to leave," he said to his counterpart, who was looking on at the numerous wooden structures that stood nearby. "Whoever set that off was a genius…"

"Look here," JJ said, pointing towards the peculiar stocks that sat off to the side of the encampment, just barely underneath a small birch tree. "These were used recently…see how they've been forced?"

"I wonder who was locked in there," Rossi said.

Just then the fire marshal came over to where the small group of police and the two agents were milling. "Well, that fire's smothered out," he said, casting glances over the place where so many had met an untimely end. "You can begin your search, if you want—though personally, if your people are still alive, it'll be a damn miracle. We had enough problems getting around that oil tank—spiked wire, deadfalls, you name it. More than like, you'll find the lot of them dead or dying in some pit those Kites dug up…"

"Thank you, Marshal," said JJ flatly. "We'll take it from here."

The marshal left, muttering something about lost causes. "Pay him no mind," said JJ brightly, trying to keep an optimistic façade. "They're in here, and we'll find them. Now, who's got that grid map of the area I asked for?"

* * *

On the southern border of Kite Country, nearly five and a half miles away from where they started, a series of rustles caught the attention of a young officer who was patrolling the remote stretch of highway.

"Show yourselves," the officer called out, raising his weapon. He lifted a radio to his lips, intent on calling for backup of any kind—at that point, even the Girl Scouts would do.

A figure in plaid and frayed jeans burst out towards the young man, his hands bound behind his back. "See? Told you I'd take you—now put the gun down!"

"Gun? What gun?" the officer asked.

"Who are you?" called out a voice from behind the trees.

"Sheriff's department," the officer called back, taking hold of the bound man before he could disappear. "You a Kite?"

"Ha! Not hardly!" a voice answered. It was a woman's voice.

"You those FBI people?"

Suddenly a small gaggle of people broke out from the treeline—five adults and four little girls, all looking like they'd just had a date with sadistic river gnomes who'd tried to turn them into mud pies.

"Yeah," said one of the women, a young man about the officer's age. "Four FBI agents, four girls, and one very stubborn PI—all in want of a bath."

"And food," one of the girls cried out.

"And a doctor," another chimed, holding onto a tall girl who was violently coughing.

"And a few more pairs of handcuffs," said another woman, who viciously shoved another plaid-wearing man towards the overwhelmed officer. "Hotch, if he moves, shoot him."

The man with the rifle—Hotch, apparently—merely strode over to the officer and relieved him of his radio.

"We're out," he said, loud and clear. "Dave, JJ, Sheriff—come out and get us."

* * *

Six hours and five doctors later, a small group gathered in one large double room where a throng of press and reporters clamored for a statement. JJ did her best to outline the events of the past week, but the most written about line was given by a mysterious woman who took the microphone over for the briefest of seconds.

"Miss Campbell, what happened in those woods?" a reporter called out.

The young woman stood silent for a moment, and then turned to the eager crowd.

"Brush up on your folklore," she merely said, then disappeared into a hallway and out of sight.


	29. Chapter 29

Several months later, Reid was poring over some of the mail he'd received at the office. He'd gotten a well-written letter form Elisha Parker, who'd finally gotten over her mysterious illness she'd contracted while in the woods. Reid privately figured that the massive dose of antibiotics she'd been given once she reached the hospital had been a help, but she insisted that she'd gotten better because "someone had finally gotten her out of there"—at least, that's how Elisha put it. There were also updates on the other girls, and it was with some amusement to the rest of the team that they learned Carrie was planning to go into law enforcement.

"Twelve years old and she's already made up her mind?" Rossi had asked as Reid had read the letter aloud during a particularly slow afternoon.

"Dave, this girl's more headstrong than even you are," Morgan said, smiling as he slowly shook his head. "Never saw a kid more determined once she put her mind to something…"

"Hey, you weren't there," Reid countered. "She had me running on less than an hour of sleep, and was still trying to fight those Kites off once they'd pulled her out of that pit."

"You planning on writing back?" asked Emily, who'd grown rather fond of the girls in the short time she'd been with them.

"Yes. I'm going to tell Carrie that if she puts her mind to it like she does most other things, she should have no trouble finding work in law enforcement."

"Or the military," cracked Morgan, who had to hurriedly smooth over a few harsh looks. "Come on—the girl would make an excellent soldier or sailor, don't you think? Military's got some good training for what she wants…"

A few chuckles floated across the room as Reid opened the next letter. It was five pages, handwritten, and postmarked from Boston.

"Katie says hi," he said, poring over the letter's contents in about three seconds. "She got married—some guy named Sam; says you three met him…"

"Oh, yeah—the DNR guy," Emily said, remembering the day they'd driven out to the edge of Kite Country to begin the rescue mission. "Kinda thought so…"

"Psychic, now, are we?" JJ asked, a playful smile forming over her lips.

"Hey, I'll have you know there's more than most who think what we do is just that," said Emily. "And coming from their perspective, it probably looks like it too."

"Hear, hear," said Morgan, who'd more than once had to go through the team's standard 'parlor trick' of dressing down a skeptic with a detailed personal profile.

"Says here they're 'vacationing' in Ireland," Reid said. "Sent a picture as well…"

Five pairs of eyes looked over Reid's shoulder at the picture of the bright-eyed woman smiling next to her new husband.

"It really _is_ green there," JJ said.

"Now I know why they call it the 'Emerald Isle,'" Morgan added.

Reid scanned the remaining envelope. A frown crossed over his even features.

"What gives?"

"It's…it's nothing," Reid said hastily, shoving the last letter in his messenger bag. It wasn't one he wanted to share—at least, not at the office.

* * *

Several hours later, Reid pulled the thin envelope from his bag and settled down on the worn overstuffed couch to read it. The return address contained no name, but the postmark was listed as Charlevoix, Michigan—about a hundred miles from the woods that had made up Kite Country.

The envelope contained a picture of water, surrounded by thick white pines and birches. The sun cast a shadow over a woman standing near the water, smiling as she held what looked like a newborn. Next to her was a face that Reid knew well.

On the back there was only one sentence: _Maybe this time I can do it the right way--not like those that come before me._

It was signed _Cameron Roscoe._

Reid studied the face for what seemed like hours. Finally, he realized that the strange feeling he felt as he looked at the photograph was one of contentment.

The Kites of Roscommon County, Michigan had all been given their just due.


End file.
